


The Clover and the Tartan

by XeresMalfoy



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 191,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24857494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XeresMalfoy/pseuds/XeresMalfoy
Summary: After returning 200 years back to save her parents' lives, Brianna Fraser is abducted by slavers and auctioned. She then finds herself into the hands of a dangerous pirate, Captain Stephen Bonnet, and hopes to buy her freedom by offering him a treasure hunt... But the pirate has no intention of letting her go.This work is a self-made translation of my own fiction (French title : Le trèfle et le tartan) available on my profile!
Relationships: Stephen Bonnet/Brianna Randall Fraser MacKenzie
Comments: 409
Kudos: 330





	1. Fear a Bhàta  (The Boatman)

**The clover and the tartan**

**Hey everyone ! This is my first attempt to translate one of my fictions in English so, please be kind !! I hope you’ll enjoy this Brianna/Bonnet fanfiction, do not hesitate to give me advice, comment, like or whatever and if you’d rather read the French version, just visit my profile (French title is : Le Trèfle et le Tartan)!**

**This story begins when Brianna first arrives in Wilmington to find her parents and warn them about the fire ! No rape in this version but there will still be a bit of violence here and there, and Bonnet being… well, himself…**

**I created a LOT of original characters and I’ve chosen a few faces so if you’re interested to see them, visit my Facebook page Xérès Malfoy :)**

**Hope you’ll enjoy it !!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own most of the characters and the universe (which belong to Diana Gabaldon), but the plot and original characters are all mine :)**

  1. _Fear a Bhàta_  
(The Boatman)



Brianna Fraser pressed her wet and dirty forehead against the bars of her cage, her tired gaze wandering over the crowd that gathered around a wooden platform. She had no illusions about the fate that awaited her. This market was not just any market: it was a slave market, where vile pirates would sell the lost souls that crossed their path. Black slaves on the run, natives whose village had been decimated, or lonely and reckless travelers like herself, who were not rich or important enough to be able to buy their freedom. Her captors had kidnapped her the day after her arrival in North Carolina, having heard about a well-made young redhead, who was traveling alone and without any ring on her left hand. A girl easily erased from the Earth’s surface. A deserted alley, a good blow on the head and they had carried her like a rag doll to the hold of their boat, where they had chained her like an animal for almost a week. She had understood, as the temperature increased every day, that the boat was sailing south, probably towards the West Indies, where most of illegal transactions were made on this side of the Atlantic.

She had screamed for the first two days, but to no avail. Had tempted to bite anyone who brought her any food or drink, before hunger forced her to become more submissive. Resignation then prevailed over her rage, when she accepted the idea that no one would come and save her from this damned ship. Her mother and Jamie had no idea of her presence in this century. The only person who could possibly know she had travelled through time was Roger, but they had not talked since their dreadful argument a few months earlier and if he decided to forget her for good, he would never find the letter she had left for him in Inverness. She was therefore undoubtedly, desperately lost.

Her gaze went to the stage as she heard the voice of one of her captors addressing the audience gathering at his feet. Mostly men, some women too, but they were rare and looked like old cannibal witches. A few black slaves passed on the stage and the public became livelier, shouting various bids from a few pounds for the frailest specimens to several dozens for solid men. Brianna, twenty-two years old, vaguely wondered how much she would be worth on this platform. She would know soon enough...

When her turn came, one of the men who had abducted her approached to open the cage and she glared at him, raising her tired chin in a final attempt to appear strong and rebellious. But he ignored her and bluntly took her out of her prison to climb onto the worm-eaten boards. A delighted whisper ran through the audience and she threw them the most disdainful look.

"A nice prize, this one, ladies and gentlemen! Young, fresh and dashing, enough to satisfy the hands of an honest man... or anyone willing to pay the price! Opening the bidding at ten pounds! », the salesman yelled, pulling Brianna by her arm. "Wiggle a little bit, girl, show them your assets!"

In response, Brianna raised her handcuffed hands and hit the man’s face with all her strength. He took three steps back, his nose bleeding heavily. A mocking laugh rose in the first row and Brianna looked in the direction of the sound. A middle-aged man with dark skin and Latin features was smirking at her. She bowed quickly to thank him, just before the salesman slapped her in the face and brought her back to reality.

The audience roared with laughter. Brianna glared at them and had to refrain from spitting at their faces. The man in the front row kept staring at her, but it soon became the least of her worries. A little further on, a paunchy man, his face covered with pustules, shouted: "Twelve pounds!"

Brianna stared at this new client and her face fell, displaying all the disgust and horror he inspired her. She turned to the man in the front row, as if to beg him to save her from this disgusting troll. But he just laughed harder. _Motherfucker_ , she groaned, while another man yelled, "Fifteen pounds!"

"She's a fiery tiger, that one! She tried to rip all of my men’s throats, she needs someone strong enough to tame her...’’ Despite his bloody nose, the salesman kept yelling at the crowd, finding in her violent act a way to attract the most perverted souls. More bids came in, but the ugly troll kept on outbidding systematically and soon, Brianna was worth fifty pounds, which would certainly have filled her with pride in other circumstances. But strangely enough, not today.

"Sixty pounds!"

The vendor's eyebrows rose on his forehead and Brianna instantly recognized the voice of the Latino who had laughed earlier. Between the miscarriage residue in the back and a stranger who obviously had a good sense of humor, she had made her choice. Speaking of residue, Mister Pustules had just outbid sixty-five pounds and Brianna shifted away from the Latino and frowned again.

"Seventy pounds", he went on, stepping closer to the platform and settling right in front of Brianna.

"Seventy-five !’’ Mister Pustules again. Damn, it was a real duel. She turned her head towards the man at her feet, waiting for his next bid and hoping he would save her from that monster, but he didn’t move.

"I have seventy-five over there! Someone else?’’, said the auctioneer while mopping up the blood running down his chin with a dirty tissue.

Brianna turned an insistent gaze at the conquistador.

"Tell me, my dear, why should I drop eighty pounds for your beautiful eyes? Convince me…”, he said with a heavy Spanish accent and a smile.

Brianna took a deep breath, mentally making the resume of all her skills. "I can speak Spanish, I can read, write, count, I studied History and Science..."  
  
The man was staring at her with a mocking expression, as if none of this mattered.

"A clever woman!", laughed the salesman behind her. "Seventy-five pounds once..."

"Is she a virgin?", asked Mr. Pustules, his question soon followed by a few giggles from the crowd.

Brianna gritted her teeth and was about to tell him to fuck off when the Spaniard's voice rose again. "To be honest, the answer to this question interests me too...", he quipped as the salesman announced "Seventy-five pounds, twice...!"

"Yes, I am!’’, Brianna almost shouted, before muttering to him: "And I know where to find gold..."

The Spaniard's eyes literally flared up and she saw him take a quick look around to make sure no one else had heard what she had just said. Brianna knew she had aroused his interest, when another man suddenly bid "One hundred pounds", raising a hand in the air.

She straightened up, looking for the man who had just bid such an amount of money. He slowly approached the front row, all without taking his eyes off her. He was in his thirties, probably a pirate judging by his outfit and the tricorn on his head. His long blond hair was tied in a low ponytail and there was a wicked light in his eyes – blue or green, she couldn’t tell at that distance. His left cheek was crossed by a long scar, which strangely did not make him ugly. She gave him a surprised and puzzled look, and his grin made her shiver. The smile itself was charming, but it did not reach his eyes, which remained as cold as marble. Suddenly, between the pustules and this dangerous iceberg, she no longer knew what was best. _Who are you kidding, Bree, he's definitely the least repulsive_ _of the three_...

"One hundred pounds! You're certainly not stinting yourself, my dear Bonnet!", the seller said, already thinking about what he would do with all the money. In the back, the other buyer groaned and shook his head, giving up. Brianna breathed a sigh of relief and the so-called Bonnet sneered loudly. They exchanged a conniving look and Brianna couldn't help but smile slightly. The Latino glanced over at his rival and shook his head hurriedly at the slave trader to let him know that he was giving up as well.

"Well, I think we have a winner... A hundred pounds once, a hundred pounds twice... Awarded to my dear friend, Captain Stephen Bonnet..." The man raised his hat and took a bow, while another approached Brianna to free her from her handcuffs. She winced and massaged her wrists, before casting a final murderous glance at the slavers as Bonnet paid them. She quickly came down from the stage to approach the man, his eyes glowing with mischief.

"Thank you, mister... Bonnet?", she asked, trying to remain dignified despite her filthy outfit and her messy hair. "You surely got me out of trouble... I will pay you back to the last penny."

"Pay me back?", he chuckled with a strong Irish accent, before literally undressing her with his eyes. "I think you are mistaken, darlin’, I did not buy you to set you free... I will still take that gold you mentioned, but you will remain my property. Until I get tired of you..."

Brianna's relief had been short-lived. His charm and apparent nonchalance had deluded her, but this man did not seem to be better than those she had just escaped. Before she could say anything, he grabbed her arm and dragged her into the crowd, tears threatening to run down her dirty cheeks. In her cage, she had resigned herself to expecting nothing more from life. She had seen Bonnet as a way out, a glimmer of hope, but he wasn’t. He would probably have fun with her, rape her, and then throw her overboard once his thirst for flesh quenched. _No way_ , she thought. Turning toward her new "owner," she swiped one foot across the ground to make him lose his balance. Surprised, he tilted forward and released her before he hit the ground. Brianna did not wait a single second and ran haphazardly through the muddy alleys, hoping to disappear from Bonnet’s sight before he could chase her. She took the first street on her right, went around a house, turned in another street, then left, then right again without looking back. She noticed in the distance the massive entrance of an official building, guarded by men in red coats and ran faster. But the long handle of an oar hit her across the stomach, stopping her dead in her tracks. Breathless, she collapsed on the ground, holding her belly with both hands. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bonnet throw the oar on the ground, where he had probably found it, and walk towards her with a threatening look on his face and cold green eyes. He grabbed her red hair to force her up and threw her against the nearest wall, pressing himself against her body.

"Let us start all over again, shall we, darlin’?", he hissed as he pulled something out of his belt. Brianna’s eyes widened when she saw a long knife, the end of which came to rest on her cheek, one or two centimeters below her left eye. "Stephen Bonnet, smuggler, nice to meet you...?"

He raised an eyebrow, as if he was waiting for her to introduce herself as well, but Brianna was too busy watching the knife pressed against her face to answer. She jumped when he started to scream.

"Your name!"

Shaking, she turned her frightened gaze into his two polar irises. "B... Brianna... Ran- Fraser...", she stammered. Her chest rose and fell at a frantic speed, and she tried to control her breathing again, feeling the pressure of Bonnet's body against hers increase each time her breasts went up to the pirate’s chest.

"That’s a lovely name...", he growled coolly. "And what are you?"

"Excuse me?”, she said, a bit taken aback.

The tip of the knife sank a little deeper into her cheek and she yelped. “I introduced myself, Stephen Bonnet, smuggler. And you... what... are you...?”

That’s when she understood what he meant. The idea of giving him another answer than the one he expected began to take root in her mind, but the prospect of losing an eye discouraged her from doing so. "I am your property...", she stuttered, closing her eyelids, as a single tear rolled from her right eye and onto her cheek. She felt one of Bonnet’s fingers slide across her skin to wipe it, then his palm patting her cheek gently, as if to congratulate her. "It wasn't that hard, was it?"

The pressure of the blade disappeared and Brianna opened her eyes again, almost astonished to have them both still intact. Bonnet swiftly put his weapon back in its scabbard, without moving away from her. "Now you will follow me and be a nice girl, won't you, Brianna?"

Hearing her name in the man's mouth suddenly made her want to throw up. All the people that had pronounced it so far in her life were good people, family, friends, teachers or acquaintances. But never an ill-intentioned person. It felt as if she was discovering her name for the first time, the sound seemed different, the rhythm too. Bonnet had a unique way of saying it and she surely didn’t like it. Angrily wiping away another tear, she just nodded her head hurriedly, looking down like a five-year-old who had been caught with a hand in the candy jar.

"Glad we cleared up the situation..." He was smiling broadly again, as if he hadn't been close to blind her a few seconds earlier. He closed his fingers again on Brianna's arm, more firmly than before and dragged her in his wake towards the port. When they finally stopped, it was on a dock where a four-masted galleon was moored, surrounded by a few busy crew members. Its name, the _Gloriana_ , was painted on one side of the hull. She did not have time to study it any longer. Bonnet pushed her onto the dock and she realized that this ship was now her new home.

"Captain, we’ll be finished before dark, everything will be ready to return to sea tomorrow morning at dawn with the tide...", said a man from the ship’s deck when Bonnet pushed Brianna on the access bridge.

"What about the damage on top of the foremast?", he asked, finally letting go of Brianna's arm. She winced and rubbed her sore muscle, casting a worried look around her.

"Repaired, captain. The worm-eaten balusters at the stern were replaced too...", replied the sailor, while glancing discreetly at the new passenger. "A guest for the night?”

"I’d rather say a last minute purchase," Bonnet immediately replied with a mocking smile. "I was in the mood for a bit of shopping..."

Both men laughed at the young woman’s disgusted look, and Brianna wrapped her arms around her chest. All these men were looking curiously at her, undressed her with their eyes, making her uncomfortable. What would happen if her buyer decided on a whim that he was no longer interested in her and handed her over to his crew? She didn’t want to find out. Her eyes met Bonnet's and he seemed to catch her train of thoughts as he walked towards her, nodding slowly. "You’re starting to understand what could happen if you pushed me to the limit, don't you? You are a clever girl…”

She gritted her teeth and glared at him, but he chuckled and patted her cheek again. Brianna could picture herself grabbing his hand and taking a major bite out of his fingers, but what he would do to her in retaliation would certainly be worse than anything she could imagine and she decided against it.

"Fill a basin with water and find this poor girl something to wear...", Bonnet said, turning to his sailor. "These slave traders don't know how to take care of their goods."

"She's filthy, that's for sure...", the other mocked as he walked away to carry out his captain's orders. Brianna looked down at her ragged petticoat, smeared with dried mud and dust, then to her bodice, covered with sweat marks.  
"You’re not exactly smelling of roses either...", she mumbled before realizing that she had spoken out loud. She looked up and saw Bonnet staring at her again, narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips.

"You have a sharp tongue, darlin’...", he mumbled as a sly smile returned to his lips. "Be careful though, if you want to keep it..."

"You will do nothing of the sort. Whatever you plan to do to me, I am sure that my tongue would be sorely missed...", she spat before cursing herself once again for speaking too quickly. She was not in the twentieth century. Men were not used to being provoked. He would cut her tongue just as easily as he would peel an apple...

Against all odds, he raised his eyebrows and let out a delighted laugh. "Probably..." He pointed to the stairs leading to the lower decks of the boat and motioned for her to follow him. Pursing her lips, she obeyed and he led her to a large cabin at the back of the ship, certainly his own judging by the maps, logbooks and all kinds of navigation instruments that covered his desk. "Please, make yourself at home...", he mocked, pushing her into the room. At the end of the cabin were two large patio doors leading to a small balcony, carved in the ship’s stern. From there, she could see part of the harbor and the docks on one side, and the vast ocean on the other. Or maybe was it the Caribbean Sea? She had absolutely no idea what island they were on. Moments later, the man Bonnet had sent for water and clothes returned with two other men. They placed in the room what their captain had asked for, pouring several basins of water into a tub, large enough to sit and have water up to the neck when it was full ( _it wasn’t_ ), before withdrawing silently.

"Clean yourself up a bit, if it is rumored that I paid a hundred pounds for a beggar, people will think that I have lost my mind...", he said pointing at the tub and the soap bar next to it.

Brianna nodded but didn't move, and just stared at him until he realized she wouldn't take off any clothes as long as he was in the room. It took him quite a long time until he frowned, storm clouds gathering in the green depths of his eyes. He opened his mouth, ready to remind her who gave the orders on this ship, but a sailor came running in the nick of time.

"Captain, there is a problem with the whiskey...", the newcomer said, seeming almost terrified to announce such bad news to his boss.

"Can it wait?", Bonnet barked, glaring at him.

The sailor froze and winced. “Not really?” The question did not mean that he was unsure of the significance of the alcohol problem, but rather that he feared it would not be a satisfactory answer for the pirate.

Bonnet pinched his nose and turned to his prisoner, who was trying not to sound too happy about this unexpected salvation. He was analyzing her through his half-closed eyelids and Brianna made an extra effort to remain neutral. He crossed the room to head for the balcony doors, locked them with a turn of the key, stuffed the key into his pocket, and finally left the cabin, locking it behind him.  
She sighed in relief and rushed to the door to check that the sound of their boots was fading away. She had no time to waste if she didn’t want him back before she finished washing. Because that was what he would seek to do, for sure: deal with his cargo problem as soon as possible and come back to get an eyeful of his new toy. As quickly as she could, she got rid of her rags and sprinkled her whole body, before scrubbing herself with the soap. Her ears were wide open, ready to pick up the slightest noise indicating Bonnet’s return. Once she had removed all traces of mud or dirt from her pale skin, she plunged into the tub with a small cry. The water was freezing. Then, she dried herself briefly with a towel and put on the first clothes she found on the pile brought by the sailors. A clean petticoat, a puffy blouse and a long skirt falling over her ankles. No stockings, she would have to keep her legs bare, but the weather was hot enough in the Caribbean. What bothered her most was the lack of underwear... She finally found a leather waist cincher with laces and she was just tying it under her chest when Bonnet unlocked the door and burst back inside the cabin. This time she couldn't help but greet him with a triumphant sneer when he frowned, finding her already clean and dressed. _I won this battle but he is certainly not going to let me win the war_ …, she thought with a shiver. But for a brief moment, she decided to savor her first victory.

"You were right, I really needed this...", she quipped with a theatrical sigh.  
Bonnet ran his tongue over his front teeth with obvious disappointment, but rather than immediately seeking revenge, he turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him. Brianna sighed in relief, as she’d rather be alone than in poor company. But for how long? One hour, maybe two? The sun would eventually set on the land and he too would reach his bed to rest. That was why he hadn’t insisted. Because he knew he would end up getting what he wanted... Brianna shuddered and glanced venomously at the bed in the corner of the room, as if the piece of furniture was responsible for her own misfortune. She dropped into the armchair placed in front of the desk and her gaze wandered over it. The logbook... Maybe she would find information on where they were now? She grabbed the black leather notebook and opened it, scrolling through the pages to find the latest entry.

_September 3, 1770, Kingston, Jamaica_

As she had assumed, she was right in the middle of the Caribbean, but Brianna wasn't sure if she should be happy about it or not. The rest of the page was a list of all repairs to be carried out on the ship before her departure, an inventory of the cargo and other boring technical details. She closed the logbook and turned to the various maps scattered across the desk. Bonnet had established his usual routes, his favorite ports and she almost uttered a cry of joy when she noticed on a map of the East Coast that Wilmington, North Carolina, was a recurring destination. If she managed to survive long enough, maybe she could run away when they berthed there again. She would then be only a few days away from finding her parents. This discovery lifted her spirits and she felt hope again, something to hold on to.

Her gaze was drawn to an object in the corner of the desk and she grabbed it. It was a magnificent sextant, surely one of the firsts since the object had been invented barely forty years earlier in history. The sextant was a gem to any good mathematician, especially at that time, in that it had revolutionized the navy by its ability to measure the angular distance between two visible objects.

She pressed her eye against the telescope, playing with the different mirrors to better appreciate the functioning of the object. It was absolutely fascinating, but also extremely complicated, so that radars and other new technologies – favored by the last world conflicts of the twentieth century – had completely sunk that kind of tools into oblivion. According to her memories, she had to point the sextant on the horizon, slide the index bar to bring the sun on the horizon (thanks to the mirrors), slow down the index bar and adjust using a small wheel, then read the indicated angle. It sounded simple, but the subsequent calculations were much more difficult. And her modern engineering curriculum at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology would definitely not allow her to solve them. Delicately placing the object where she had found it, she turned her attention to the maps and the logbook, determined to ignore the darkening red and orange sky outside the windows.

~o~

Brianna startled when the door slammed and realized, by her sore neck and puffy eyelids, that she had fallen asleep at the desk with her head on her forearms. It was already dark outside. She swiftly closed the logbook (which was open on a page dedicated to Wilmington) and pushed the maps aside. Bonnet had returned and he could not know where she wanted to go, or he would certainly avoid the destination for years just to upset her. Frowning, he walked over to the desk and quickly looked at what she was doing there, but to no avail. He then understood, by the marks that the edge of his notebook had left on the girl's forehead and her haggard look, that she had fallen asleep on his belongings.

“Hungry?”, he asked, placing a dish in front of her, filled with some sort of cereal porridge and smoked bacon, and _thank God_ an apple. Brianna smelled her meal and resisted the urge to vomit. In order not to offend him, she threw herself on the fruit and took a bite.

The pirate dropped more than he sat in another chair, putting an elbow on the armrest and his chin in his hand. Pretending that she hadn’t noticed him or his insistent look, Brianna devoured her apple in silence. But the more she reached the core, the more she felt the weight of the man’s eyes on her, and the more it made her uncomfortable. There were soon only a few seeds left with a little bit of flesh around them, but she continued to scrape the fruit with her teeth, as if nothing happened. Until she had to face the facts: the fruit was all eaten now. In an excessively slow motion, she placed the core on the edge of her untouched plate of oatmeal and cleared her throat, while carefully avoiding turning her head towards the captain of the _Gloriana_. Thirty seconds later, she ventured an eye in his direction and saw that he had absolutely not moved an inch, his green eyes still riveted on her, with infinite patience. Like a cat mentally exhausting a mouse until it comes out of its hole. And then eating it.

"Come here...", he ordered. Brianna closed her eyes. There she was. As she feared, he was going to take her, whether she liked it or not. She had to find a way to buy herself more time. There had to be something good, merciful in the man, even if it was deeply buried. She had to find a raw nerve and hit it. Hard. She got up, trying not to shake and came to stand in front of him, less than a meter away.

"Closer…"

She took two small steps forward, but that was enough for their knees to brush against each other. Bonnet straightened, his face coming up to her belly, and slipped a hand under her skirt, stroking her calf, her knee, and the back of her thigh. He was only a few inches from her buttocks when she exclaimed:

"A few days ! Give me a few days!"

He stopped, without withdrawing his hand. "A few days to do what?"

"To... I don't know... get to know each other...", she stammered miserably.

"What makes you think you will want me more once you know me better...?" His voice was nothing more than a whisper and a mischievous gleam was lightening up his green gaze. The color seemed so much darker in the dim light of the cabin than it was in direct sunlight. Brianna shuddered but tried not to display her dismay.

"If you make an effort, I will make one as well..."

He smiled and grabbed her buttock in his hand, noting that she wasn’t wearing anything under her petticoats. "I'm not the kind of man who makes efforts, you see, darlin’? Let alone for a service that I have already paid for."

"My point exactly... When you buy a hundred pound toy, the least you can do is not break it on the first day," she retorted.

Against all odds, he burst out laughing, even if his eyes remained as cold as ice. His hand left Brianna's bottom, as well as the underside of her skirt, and slipped it around her waist to make her sit on his lap. "You’re right...", he smirked. "Let's talk business, then. Your gold… where is it?"

"Technically, it is not _my_ gold...", she winced.

"At the market, you offered me gold..."

"At the market, I said that I knew _where to find_ gold, not that it belonged to me...", she said before yelling in pain when Bonnet's fingers dug a little too deep into her ribs. He pulled her closer to him and Brianna had to seize the back of the chair, on either side of the pirate’s head, so as not to crush against him. Their noses almost touched and the young woman thought she was going to die of terror when she saw a cyclone of fury spinning in his green eyes.

"I thought you understood who you’re dealing with, Brianna Fraser... Do you really think I am someone you can play on words with?"

"N-no... Let me explain..."

"You talk way too much for a woman... Give me one good reason, just one, not to stick your tongue out and hand you over to my crew..."

Bonnet's right hand had left Brianna's waist and was now squeezing her neck tightly. She had no more time to waste, so she gave the only name that could save her. "Black Sam..." Bonnet's brow furrowed and she saw in his eyes that he knew the nickname of the infamous pirate. "I think I know where the lost treasure of Samuel Bellamy is..."

The pressure on her neck eased slightly, but he still didn't seem to trust her completely. "The treasure sank with his fleet in the storm that killed him..."

"The storm didn't kill him in 1717...", Brianna said, shaking her head. “Three years later, a man calling himself Sam Bellamy reappeared and was convicted for piracy. Old documents claim that it was the same man."

She had indeed managed to catch his attention this time. Bonnet looked at her carefully, as if he were looking for the slightest nervous tic indicating she was lying. "How do you know all this?"

"My father... he is – _was_ – a history professor in Harvard," she went on. It wasn’t exactly a lie: even in this century, the position already existed as the oldest of American universities had been founded in 1636. "He had two passions: genealogy, or the study of one's own ancestors, and piracy. All of his research, all of his discoveries, he shared them with me, telling me all the most incredible adventures of the greatest pirates when he tucked me in bed, at night... If you are looking for a wealth of information on your fellow pirates...", she pointed a finger to her red hair, "everything is in there..."

Bonnet was speechless for a moment and looked at her with interest, his teeth slightly biting his lower lip. "The name of the one and only woman he ever loved?"

"Maria Hallet.” Brianna suppressed a grin, realizing he was testing her. She could not make a single mistake and had to answer all of his questions precisely. From where he was, she hoped Frank would be proud of her.

"The name of his ship?"

"The _Sultana_. Until February 1717, when he captured the _Whydah Gally_ from its commander Laurens Prins and turned it into his flagship."

Bonnet's lips stretched into an impressed smile. "His role in the blockade of Charleston?"

 _Nice try_ , Brianna thought, sneering. "The blockade was not caused by Samuel Bellamy, but by Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard. Moreover, it took place in May 1718, one year after Bellamy was presumed dead, which makes his participation impossible..."

"You just told me that he was not dead in 1717..."

"But he kept a low profile. The fact that you didn’t even know he was alive is a proof he succeeded. "

The pirate fell silent again and was now watching her with amusement and perhaps, yes, a tad of admiration. This reassured Brianna who proudly smiled at him, knowing that she had passed his little test hands down. His questions weren't very difficult, after all, as they focused on two of the greatest (and Frank’s favorite) pirates from this era. But still, it was the second victory of the day. Maybe she would have three, if she managed to wake up tomorrow morning with her virginity. Not that she cared much about it, after all she had almost had sex with Roger at the festival a few months ago (if he hadn't ruined everything with a stupid argument). But the idea of being bluntly deflowered, moreover by a complete stranger, did not exactly please her. At all.

"I would like to make a deal with you," she said, her smile fading slightly.

"Here we go again...", he sighed, throwing his head back, as if he was tired of her constant haggling, but Brianna was determined and she started talking at full speed.

"It is vital that I find my parents before January 21, I must tell them something very imp-"

He unceremoniously removed her from his lap with an exasperated sigh. "Write them a letter..."

"These are not things I want to say in a _letter_...", she barked, clenching her fists.

"Well, that’s too bad for you!", he shrugged, showing he had no interest in her story.

How could he be so unempathetic and bad-mannered? She could not believe it, even if he had listened to her speak more than her previous kidnappers, who had just let her scream and then gagged her when they had had enough. Bonnet had gotten on his feet and removed his boots as he made his way to his bed, before letting himself fall on the mattress, one arm behind his head. Brianna watched him, quiet as a mouse, and scanned the room looking for another comfortable place to sleep, but there was nothing except two wooden chairs, a table, a desk, the tub of ice cold water and a few trunks. She crossed her arms over her chest, but the pirate ignored her completely. Two minutes passed before he finally glanced at her.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot..." he scoffed, pulling one of pillows from under his head to throw it to the ground. “Only obedient young women are allowed to climb into this bed. The others sleep on the floor."

"At least I won't run out of space," she snapped, picking up the pillow.

"Consider yourself happy to have something for that stubborn little red head of yours..."

The pillow returned to his face, muffling the end of his sentence. When he lifted it again to glare at her, he saw that she had sat on his chair and had put her head in her arms on the table, her face glaring at the opposite wall. He sighed, not wanting to spend his last night on the land yelling at an idiot and after placing the pillow back under his own head, he closed his eyes. He did not see Brianna's shoulders shiver, as she sobbed quietly. He did not see her turn her red and swollen eyes to him a few minutes later and give him a venomous look, before closing her eyelids and drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

**oOoOo**

**That’s all for today, folks ! I hoped you enjoyed this first chapter ! I will publish a new chapter every Monday, but please do not hesitate to tell me what you think, it will be helpful !**

**See you soon !**

**Xérès**


	2. Na Laetha Geal m'Oige (The brighter days of my youth)

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Here is the second chapter of this story, I hope you will like it :) A big part of Samuel Bellamy’s story is true, I just invented the mausoleum part, but the rest is history with a capital H !**

**oOo**

Chapitre 2. _Na Laetha Geal m'Oige_ (The brighter days of my youth)

Brianna awoke to the sound of orders yelled by different members of the crew and turned her head towards Bonnet’s empty bunk. She rubbed her eyes, then massaged her sore neck. She felt the boat move slightly and got up from her chair to walk towards the French windows which led to the stern. Locked. This time, she turned to the exit and was surprised to see that Bonnet hadn't bothered to lock her up when he left. Cautiously, she opened the door and slipped into the corridor, passing by the crew’s rudimentary cabins and hammocks, before finally reaching the staircase that led to the steerage. Lifting her skirt with one hand, she climbed up the steps, close to the walls so as not to disturb the sailors running around. The sun had barely risen in the sky but the tropical heat was already oppressive. Fortunately, a light breeze brought a little freshness. And what she saw up the stairs almost made her forget her dreadful situation.

The previous pirates who had kidnapped her had put her directly in the hold and being a simple passenger on the boat she had taken to cross the Atlantic, she had never had the opportunity to admire the ballet of a crew taking their ship to sea. She now understood what she had missed. Each man had a specific task, which he carried out with care, confirming each gesture out loud so that the other workers of this gigantic buzzing hive would be informed. Looking up at the sails, she saw that the smaller, triangular-shaped lateens, at the stern of the ship, had already been set in order to leave the port at low speed. Slowly but surely, the ship was already moving away from the dock and she felt a slight lump in her throat, as she thought that unless she jumped into the water now, she would have no way to flee. But knowing Stephen Bonnet’s bad temper, he would definitely jump after her to get her back. Or drown her with his own hands.

"Get out of the way...", a sailor muttered, shoving her away.

"Sorry..."

Brianna ran to the ship’s rail to make herself as small as possible, without missing a single minute of the departure. The bow was already facing the sea and leaning a little more, she noticed a tiny little boat, guiding the _Gloriana_ out of the harbor using ropes that were wider than Brianna’s hands. Soon, the tugboat released the ropes and the oarsmen departed as quickly as possible from the galleon. New orders were yelled, then confirmed, and the large square sails on the grand and fore masts were set. The wind in her hair grew stronger as the ship sped up and she couldn't help but smile in wonder. _Daddy would be so jealous_ …, she thought emotionally. She was literally living Frank Randall’s life-long dream and she swore to herself to memorize each sensation, each image, so that the day she would return to Boston on her adoptive father’s grave, she could tell him all the details of her crazy adventure. _On a freaking pirate ship_ , she chuckled.

She was still smiling foolishly when she turned her gaze towards the upper deck. Bonnet was there, his hands on the wheel, but he was not staring at the vast emptiness of the ocean. Even at that distance, she could feel him staring at her and her cheerful expression, with amusement. Brianna scowled and decided that he wouldn't spoil this rare moment of bliss. Turning away from him, she made her way to the front of the ship, skillfully dodging the sailors. Once at the end of the bow, she leaned over the rail to admire how the hull broke the waves beneath her. It didn't take long before she saw what she had expected. As she had often heard, dolphins used to play along the ships, taking advantage of the underwater waves created by the hulls to move faster and save energy. She cried out in delight when one of them seemed to race with the _Gloriana_ and began to swim at full speed just under her feet. She hoisted herself a little higher on the rail, balancing on her stomach for a better view. She would have tipped forward, if she hadn’t managed to restore her balance by kicking her legs backwards. Ashamed, Brianna took a quick look around but no one seemed to have paid attention to her, except perhaps a laughing captain which she luckily did not notice.

Dolphins multiplied around the hull, for her greatest pleasure. She wondered if, by any chance, she could train them so that they would bring her back up to the coast. _Probably not_ …

With a sigh, she turned to lean against the rail and enjoy the soft wind in her hair. After so many days in a cage, this big breath of fresh air was fantastic. She slid one hand into her hair and removed the ribbon that tied her curls into a messy bun. Rubbing her scalp vigorously, she quickly combed her red hair with her fingers and let the whole thing fall loose on her shoulders. She could feel it was not very clean after all this time, but she had not really had time to shampoo on the previous night. _Whatever_ , she thought, closing her eyes to enjoy the sunlight, _it may keep Bonnet away for a while_. Or then again, maybe not…

As if he had read her thoughts, she heard the captain's voice above the wind and the waves crashing underneath. A little too close.

"Nice catch and if I may, very nice legs too..."

Brianna opened her eyes wide and saw that he was staring at her, a few meters away. _He saw me_..., she whined internally, choosing to ignore his "compliment". "Don't you have a galleon to steer?", she asked defiantly.

"Once at sea with a direction, my First mate can handle that very well..."

"Well, if your First mate ‘can handle that very well’, maybe he shouldn't be First mate but Captain!"

Bonnet laughed and swung his shoulders from right to left as if he was hesitating. "Hm... a captain needs confidence, poise, charm, audacity..."

"Yup, you definitely have that one...", she coughed.

"Oh, isn’t this cute, we already have something in common..."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head before turning her back on him. Brianna was literally dying to ask him what he was doing here, but did not want him to think she had any interest in his actions. She heard him approach and also lean on the rail, but deliberately kept her eyes on the open sea.

"We did not finish our conversation last night... about our business...", he began, looking serious again.

" _You_ ended it by refusing to listen to my proposition, Mr. Bonnet..."

Brianna still turning her back on him, she didn’t see the pirate’s expression darken nor his arms surround her and swing her over the rail. Brianna screeched, her hands clasping the railing while the captain firmly held her by the legs.

"What do you think of that one, darlin’: you tell me where your gold is and I won’t feed you to the sharks..."

"You would never-aaaah!” Her sentence ended with a high-pitched cry, when Bonnet dropped her about ten inches.

"Sorry, I didn't understand...?”, he taunted, tilting his head down.

"Alright, alright! Bring me back!”, she barked, feeling relieved when he did. She staggered slightly when he put her on her feet and took a few steps back, muttering something that he couldn't hear. It would have been too long and impossible to explain anyway. "Psychopath…"

He gave her a sly smile and she immediately thought that she had seen it far too often in less than twenty-four hours.

"So?”, he said, leaning against the railing, arms crossed over his chest.

Brianna readjusted her waist-cincher and angrily smoothed the sides of her skirt. She had no choice, she had to spill the beans if she wanted to negotiate. Maybe he would be willing to listen to her more carefully once he had the treasure.

"Did you know that Samuel Bellamy’s wife was pregnant a few months before he disappeared at sea?” The pirate shook his head, but his expression clearly indicated that he didn't give a damn, so she went on: "The child, a girl, was stillborn. Bellamy tried to come back to his bereaved wife and braved the storm with a ship full of the gold and loot of the last few months. Reported lost after the sinking, just like Black Sam’s body."

He nodded, knowing this part of the story and motioned for her to continue.

"At only seventeen years old, the young widow is now alone, rejected by her peers because of her relationship with one of the greatest pirates of the Atlantic, and everything she owns is confiscated by the authorities… Her daughter’s body is buried in a shallow grave and Maria is chased from her village, as her neighbors accuse her of murdering her own baby and selling her soul to the Devil. Everyone will then forget about her existence. For two years.” Brianna took a deep breath, aware of the importance of a good announcement effect. "Have you ever visited the grave of Joannah Hallet Bellamy, Mr. Bonnet?"

"I can’t say I have...", he mumbled. There was something pleasant about the way she told her story and he allowed her to go on.

"Today, it is a mausoleum. Over four meters high by five meters long, with a richly decorated dome and allegedly lined with gold-embroidered tapestries. That mausoleum was commissioned by a man who wished to remain anonymous, probably Samuel Bellamy, consumed with remorse for not being there when his daughter was born and faking his death ever since.” Brianna crossed her arms over her chest. The rest of the story was guesswork, as no one in the modern world had ever been able to prove the historians’ theories. Not only out of respect but also because the grave was barely a ruin in the twentieth century. "Now tell me, Mr. Bonnet, why would anyone build such a large mausoleum to preserve the remains of a small infant?"

"The treasure would be... inside?”, he winced.

"My father believed it..."

"How come no one ever checked, then?”, he went on, raising an eyebrow. "If this was so easy..."

Brianna tilted her head on one side and looked at him impatiently. "Do you know a lot of people who would be brave enough to open a grave? Let alone the grave of a girl whose parents are a pirate and an alleged evil witch, about whom it had been said that she’s crashing ships against the cliffs of Cape Cod, on stormy evenings?"

"No," he admitted.

"And that's why nobody ever tried anything in about fifty years... That and the fact that very few people know about it."

She smiled triumphantly at him, glad to have finally managed to shut him up. Or so she thought.

"Cape Cod, huh...? That’s more than 1,300 nautical miles from here, assuming that we’re moving in a straight line…” ( _A/N: 2,500 km_ )

"I agree, but if the grave contains even a tenth of Bellamy's estimated fortune, you won't have to work a single day for the rest of your life...", Brianna argued. "How many days to get there?"

"About ten or so from here, as long as we maintain a constant speed of five to six knots, which is not guaranteed... And I also have a cargo to deliver to Philadelphia."

"Philadelphia is on the way..." Brianna was begging him, as when she was little and asked Frank for a candy because he never refused her anything. She nibbled on her thumbnail, trying to hide her smile, but failed miserably. To be honest, she had loved to tell her story and try to convince the pirate to embark on this adventure.

"Why do I feel like you’re enjoying this a little too much?", he grinned.

"My father dedicated almost all of his free time to the mysteries of piracy... Finding this treasure would be a way... of paying tribute..."

"What happened to him?"

Brianna froze. It was perhaps his first personal question since he had asked for her name. She held back a smile. The number one rule to survive a psychopath : no longer be a dehumanized object but an individual in its own right.

"Ca- Horse-riding accident..." She had almost said "car" but had corrected herself in time. Bonnet did not seem to notice anything.

"I am sorry…"

She stared at him with interest, trying to determine if he was sincere or if he was just automatically copying social codes. "Thank you...", she replied with a slight smile.

There was a silence, and Brianna tied her crazy hair with her green ribbon.

"So… opening the grave of a witch’s unbaptized child... doesn't scare you?", he asked, looking amused.

“The living scare me much more than the dead..." She punctuated her sentence with a meaningful look in his direction. He seemed to understand the allusion and let out a sarcastic laugh.

"You may not be that stupid after all..." He pulled away from the rail and with a last laugh, went back to his business, leaving her alone at the bow.

~o~

Their first day of sailing had gone off without mishap and Brianna had been able to spend some time alone, away from the crew. The sailors ignored her most of the time, only glancing curiously at her here and there, and Bonnet had been far too busy checking each board of the ship with the carpenter. She had vaguely understood that the cyclone season had started and that they would soon enter the most active period, but the blue sky spread endlessly over their heads and she assumed that they were not in immediate danger. Just before sunset, around 6 p.m., the sailors lit a few lanterns and gathered on the deck for dinner. The boat's cook brought a huge cauldron of the horrid porridge she had avoided the day before, and Brianna decided to join them and have a few nuts or maybe even a fruit. Anything but that oily, smelly oatmeal. As usual when allowed to do so in their spare time, the sailors had opened a few bottles of smuggled rum and started to sing sea shanties, mainly about women, whiskey or unfortunate sailors getting into trouble with the previous two. Brianna smiled when she recognized the first lyrics of the next song.

_"What shall we do with a drunken sailor? What shall we do with a drunken sailor? What shall we do with a drunken sailor? Early in the morning!"_

Did they know that their ribald song would become a classic in the centuries to come? Probably not. Brianna had heard this song hundreds of times, every time Boston turned green on St. Patrick's Day. But hearing it from actual intoxicated sailors was a whole new experience.

_"Wey - hey and up she rises, Wey - hey and up she rises, Wey - hey and up she rises, Early in the morning!"_

With evident pleasure, she listened to every one of them sing about all the things they planned to do to this poor drunk sailor, before taking up the chorus in unison. The man sitting next to her then sang to ‘ _put him in the guard room till he's sober’_ , and the group took up the chorus before turning towards her. Bonnet, who was smoking a thick cigar a few meters behind his men, blew his smoke into the darkness, enjoying the long and awkward silence.

 _They… they want me to sing the next verse?_ Brianna panicked, swallowing a huge piece of apple without even chewing it. _What comes after... Oh..._ Of course, it was _that_ rhyme. They probably thought that her proper education would prevent her from singing it. _Well guys, prepare to be amazed..._

Straightening herself up, she held her head high and bellowed: " _Put him in bed with the captain's daughter, Put him in bed with the captain's daughter, Put him in bed with the captain's daughter, Early in the morning!_ "

All the sailors cheered and sang the chorus again, before moving on to the next verse with another victim. On the other side, the glowing tip of Bonnet's cigar reddened as he puffed, and then came down towards his chest. Even in the darkness of the night and the dim light of the candles around them, she could see his white teeth uncover in an enigmatic smile, just as the Cheshire cat from _Alice in Wonderland_. Ignoring him, she bit into her apple again and turned her attention back to the singers.

After an hour or so, however, the laughter became less frequent, replaced by quieter conversations or loud snoring. Brianna got up and went to the rail again. She never got tired of stargazing. The Milky Way was one of the most incredible things she had ever witnessed in her life. This was definitely one of the best perks of this century: the absence of bright artificial lights polluting the sky.

"Very impressive performance, coming from such a small woman...", Bonnet mocked behind her. Brianna rolled her eyes and turned around. "I’m serious, if I had closed my eyes, I would have had no trouble imagining an old drunkard singing in a tavern."

"I did my best to match the talent of your men... You know what they say: when in Rome, do as the Romans do."

Bonnet laughed and she couldn't help but smile as well. She couldn’t deny there was a kind of chemistry between them. Despite the fear he had instilled in her after she tried to run away in Kingston, and then the day before in his cabin, their interactions had always been interesting. Since they had met at the market, when she had naively believed that he would set her free, she had kept pushing him further, hoping to get more from him, haggling, begging, or even joking with him just as she was now. The man intrigued her about as much as he terrified her, and she could feel he was intrigued too.

"Have you made up your mind? About Cape Cod?”, she said, without looking away from the sky above.

"I will think about it until we get to Philadelphia... I have to make sure that it is not too risky, if we were caught desecrating a grave, we would all be sentenced to death..."

She sighed loudly at the pirate's hesitation, but refrained from making any comment.

"Something is bothering me, though...", Bonnet said, frowning. "Why would a girl like you, with such information, reveal it without asking for anything important in return?"

Brianna finally looked away from the stars and her gloomy expression convinced him that she was hiding her true motives from him. "I already asked for something... but you didn't listen. I’m hoping you will... eventually."

"Let you go and find your mother, yes, I heard your request and I answered... no."

Brianna let out an exasperated groan. "Why do you even care? You’ll get much more than a hundred pounds if we find this treasure, and then you will be free to buy all the girls you want!"

"Girls who can find hidden treasures? I doubt it…"

"You will already have one, you can’t have all of them?", she cried, stamping her foot on the deck. "Believe it or not but I have things to do, people to find, and I already lost a lot of time because of you and your fellow slavers..." As he did not answer, she decided to try some reverse psychology. "If I know that I have a chance of finding my family, I will be more eager to help you... Maybe I haven’t told you everything I know. Such a hunt requires exact information, and if I no longer cooperate..."

"What about losing an eye... or a few fingers?", he quipped, as relaxed as if he had just offered her a glass of water.

"Violence, always violence..."

He laughed and without another word, walked towards the stairs to the lower deck. _Is he really going to bed without saying anything?,_ she thought, disappointedly. Once again, he had refused to set her free at the end of their treasure hunt. She sighed and was for a moment tempted to stay a little longer on the steerage and enjoy the cool night air, but the few sailors who remained on guard were staring at her and she suddenly felt much less safe than she was with Bonnet. _Oh, the irony_... Brianna immediately followed him. She’d rather spend the night on this damn chair than another minute alone with the half-drunk crew.

In his cabin, Bonnet sat at his desk and plunged a quill into the inkwell, to add a new entry in his logbook. As he paid no attention to her, Brianna decided to tackle a difficult task: her hair. Tangled, soiled by days and days of imprisonment and damp heat, her long red hair was a very pitiful sight. In the tub, the water had been changed and was waiting for her, clean and clear.

"Do you have a brush... anything to comb my hair?", Brianna asked shyly, as he pointed to one of the chests in the corner. She knelt and opened it, discovering all kinds of beautifully crafted toiletry items. Dozens of brushes, combs, mirrors, made of ivory, silver, hand-painted, inlaid with gems, were waiting there to be used, surrounded by linens and jewelry. She looked up at the Irishman and frowned. "These are stolen goods, right?"

Still writing in his logbook, he broke into a large grin that spoke volumes.

"Of course...", she sighed, turning her attention back to the loot. She pulled out a brush with hard bristles, in which was stuck a long rod of golden metal with a butterfly encrusted with emeralds at one end. It looked like an old bookmark, but Brianna immediately thought of her habit of wrapping her hair around a pencil when she was a student. This would be far more effective than her old, filthy ribbon. She got up and closed the trunk, trying not to think of the previous owners of all these artifacts, and filled one of the empty basins with clean water to place it on the table. With a sigh, she began to untangle her mane, trying not to tear her scalp off. The sweat and grime had created tiny dreadlocks in the back of her hair and she groaned when a brush stroke tore off a large wick with a sinister creak. After ten good minutes of suffering, most of the work was done and she tilted her head in the basin to wet her hair thoroughly. She rubbed the bar of soap in her hands to spread the substance over her scalp but she had to admit that it was much less practical than shampoo. Closing her eyes, she imagined with delight the day she would be able to take a hot shower again, with liquid soap and actual shampoo. And _oh_ , a hair dryer to straighten those damn curls. She sighed so loudly that she heard Bonnet swivel on his chair. _Oops_. For a moment, she had forgotten where and with whom she was. Gathering her soaped hair over the top of her head, she stood up to empty the basin in the bucket of dirty water and refilled it with clean liquid to rinse her head. She already felt a lot better and a little more human than an hour earlier. She wrapped her hair in a cloth to mop up as much liquid as possible and turned her attention to the gold and emerald butterfly on the table. She twisted it between her fingers for a few minutes, then pulled the cloth out of her hair to let it air dry. As Bonnet was still writing silently, she put the basins and the bucket away, before heading to the French windows leading to the balcony. They were still locked.

Brianna turned to the pirate and waited patiently for him to notice her. In vain. She then cleared her throat and he looked up, exasperated. She pointed to the doors as if to say "I need the key...". The look he gave her literally screamed "If I give it to you, will you leave me alone?". She answered "yes" in her head and as if their mental conversation had really happened, he plunged his left hand into one of his pockets and threw her a large copper key, which she caught with a delighted smile. Hurrying to open the doors before he changed his mind, she went out onto the balcony and found the starry sky she loved so much, this time without any sailors ogling her. The nights were warm in this part of the Atlantic and the feeling of the wind in her wet hair was pure delight.

Leaning against the railing, she turned her back to the sea. From where she was, she could clearly see Bonnet working silently at his desk. This guy was a complete lunatic... He seemed ready to tear your eyes out one moment and the next, he joked as if nothing had happened. He could also be joking _while_ tearing your eyes out at the same time. It was quite difficult to keep track.

But sitting as he was, focusing on his task, a blond wick escaping from his ponytail and falling in front of his nose, he almost looked normal. He glanced angrily at her and Brianna understood that he probably didn’t like to be stared at, so she went back to her first activity: observing the night sky.

However, being alone for the first time in weeks, gloomy thoughts soon clouded her mind. Doubts, questions too. Had Roger found her letter? Would she find Claire and Jamie in time and warn them about the presumed date of their death? Would she ever go back to Boston? So far, her little excursion in 1770 had not gone as planned at all. She had dived head-first into the unknown without really thinking about the consequences and her carelessness might cost her mother her life. Not to mention her own...

And Frank... She had convinced herself that her adoptive father would have been jealous of her situation, hanging out with pirates, but to be honest, he would never have let her travel through the stones in the first place. She now realized that this century was dangerous for a single young woman. When Claire had told her the whole truth about time travel, a few details had sent chills down Brianna's back, but she now understood that her mother had probably witnessed a lot more horrors. It was a violent, dangerous era, where the slightest injury could kill you, where human life was not worth much, more specifically if you were a woman and/or a person of color.

She felt a tear roll down her cheek and wiped it nervously, sniffing. Even if she had been able to cope with the situation, her nerves threatened to get the better of her. _And it's not over, I'm far from being out of trouble_... A second, then a third tear escaped and she soon stopped wiping them away. She had been crying silently for a few minutes when a noise behind her made her jump and she quickly rubbed her sleeve over her face.

"I'm going to bed...", Bonnet said.

"Hun hun..." If she said a single word, he would certainly hear the tears in her voice and she didn’t want that.

"This time, I want you with me."

Again, his tone was final and she closed her eyes, pursing her lips as hard as she could. He would never let go, every day would be a new battle for power, earning the right to be treated like a human being. His good mood and the attention he had granted her today had given her a false sense of security. Clearly, the war was far from won. She took a deep breath and decided to move past him quickly, so that he would not notice her swollen eyes. Maybe he would even turn off the lights before he could see her face. After all, it was not the part of her body he was interested in.

She hurried on, but he suddenly seized her arm and swiveled her towards him, holding her chin with his other hand. _How did he know?,_ she panicked as he scanned every inch of damp skin, her eyes clouded with tears, before looking down at her swollen lips. Brianna tried to pull away, but he held her firmly. He narrowed his eyes and glanced briefly at his bed.

"In harbor, sleeping on a chair is not a problem, but at sea, the slightest violent jolt would tip you over… you could hurt yourself…", he muttered, finally releasing her chin.

"Oh, it's a matter of safety, then...", she spat, her voice shaking slightly.

"Obviously... What were you thinking?"

She looked at him, her eyes half closed. This imbecile knew very well what she was thinking and he smiled, replacing a blond wick behind one ear. She briskly released herself from his grip and went straight to the table, sitting back on her chair. "Thanks, but no thanks."

She heard him stride forward and stiffened, preparing for the worst. She had considered just about every possibility (that he would pluck her eyes out, strangle her or throw her overboard), but instead he grabbed the chair by the sides and suddenly knocked it over. Brianna crashed to the floor and cried out in pain when her right hip and elbow hit the wooden surface.

"By Danu, what a wave! Did you feel that, darlin’?", he exclaimed pretending, very badly, to be surprised. "I warned you, the sea is quite changeable.” He dropped more than he put the chair back on the floor and turned to remove his waistcoat and shirt, then his boots. With only his pants on, he crashed onto his bed and glared at her. Still lying on the ground, Brianna was seething with rage. They stared at each other for a few seconds, until the young woman got up, rubbing her sore elbow, and came to sit on the edge of the bunk.

With slow gestures, she untied her waist-cincher and placed it on the floor near the bed. Tears threatened to fall again, but she wouldn't give him that satisfaction. She took off her skirt and shoes, and soon she was wearing only her petticoat and blouse. Behind her back, Bonnet did not make a single noise and she suppressed a shiver.

"Would you please... not hurt me... when, I mean..." Her lower lip trembled. She would never be able to finish that sentence without bursting into tears.

"I'll do my best...", he breathed into her neck. She jumped, as he was much closer than she had expected, and he went on: "But not tonight, I'm exhausted. However, I take note of your request…”

Brianna blinked and turned so quickly towards him that she felt her neck snap. He was smiling broadly again and she realized he had no intention of touching her tonight. He was just playing with her. The cat and the mouse. She did her best not to breathe a sigh of relief and laid her head on one of the pillows. The pirate’s green eyes stared at her for a few minutes, without blinking. Then, he grinned one last time and closed his eyelids.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**That's all for today ! What did you think of this chapter? Other characters will soon be added to the story, we will know a little more about the sailors and the very _special_ universe of Stephen Bonnet... > < See you next Monday and have a good week!**


	3. Amhrán na Leabhar (Song of the Books)

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**The third chapter of this fiction is the last to set the stage before really getting into the action. You will discover some new original characters and as always, if you want to have a little more than the descriptions in the text, their faces are on my Facebook page ;)  
Thanks to all of those who commented/subscribed/faved the last chapter.  
**

**Hope you’ll enjoy this one!  
  
**

  1. _Amhrán na Leabhar_ (Song of the Books)



Brianna woke up with the unpleasant feeling of sitting on a gigantic swing. She straightened up on the bunk, and another wave unbalanced her. She would have toppled over to the floor if two arms had not circled her and brought her back on the mattress.

"We’ve entered the Atlantic… Do you understand now why I refused to let you sleep on that chair?"

Brianna didn't answer, she felt like she was going to be sick. The Caribbean Sea had been flat calm throughout the night, the contrast between the two was striking to say the least.

"It will soon be calmer, once we leave the narrows..."

He jumped to his feet and put on his shirt under his prisoner’s awkward gaze, before leaving the cabin. A new wave rocked the _Gloriana_ and Brianna felt the urgent need to get some fresh air. She put on her waist-cincher, then her skirt and her boots, and went down the corridor to the stairs, taking along the gold and emerald butterfly to tie her hair back in a bun. A violent wave caught the boat sideways and Brianna lost her balance, crashing against the handrail. Outside, the air was cooler than the previous day and Brianna took a long, deep breath to regain control of her stomach. She continued to climb, from the steerage to the upper deck. The best way to overcome seasickness was to breathe some fresh air and stare at the horizon.

Bonnet had taken the wheel and was casually steering the galleon in the turbulent narrows between the ocean and the sea. Neither he nor his crew seemed to be affected by the roll: they all adapted their gait to the inclination of the deck. The simple fact of looking at the said inclination and the angle formed with the sailors' legs confused Brianna's inner ear and her stomach protested again. Clinging to the handrail, she was greeted at the top with a laughter that she was now knowing too well.

"Feelin’ bad, darlin’...?", Bonnet laughed, without taking his eyes from the ocean.

Brianna clung to the railing of the upper deck, near the wheel, and focused on the horizon. "Shut up...", she grumbled between her teeth, her intestines literally jigging.

"For the sake of your pretty tongue, I will pretend I didn't hear that...", he sighed. Brianna groaned. How could he even hear her with all the ruckus caused by the waves, the sails and the wind? "Patience, sweetheart, your body will get used to it soon."

She already knew that, from a similar experience when she had left Scotland for the New World a few weeks earlier. She loudly exhaled when the boat swerved again. "Where are we?”, she asked, at the sight of a stretch of land in the distance.

"Halfway between Cuba and Saint-Domingue. Rare are the soldiers of the Crown who venture around here..."

Brianna frowned and turned to him with a half-smile.

"That’s near Tortuga Island, isn’t it?”, she asked, remembering that her father had mentioned an entire island that had completely fallen into the hands of filibusters, between Cuba and Haiti, formerly known as Saint-Domingue.  
He raised an amused eyebrow.

“Correct. Do you want to stop there?”, he joked, as if he was really going to let her choose their destination.

Brianna rolled her eyes. "I’d rather not… I heard it is teeming with _dangerous pirates_..."

He laughed again. Brianna was feeling a little better and when the sun appeared in the East, tinting the sky with a beautiful shade of pink, she soon forgot her discomfort. In about a week, they would reach Philadelphia and by then she would know what fate had in store for her. Would Bonnet give up Samuel Bellamy's treasure to pursue his current business? She had no idea. But if he decided to do so, she would have nothing more than her own body to pay back his hundred pounds. If he hadn't jumped on her before that...

She glanced at him sideways, while remembering the events of the previous night. He had deliberately waited for her to undress and offer herself to him before clearing up the misunderstanding. What kind of twisted soul would manipulate people like that? _Probably the same kind who buys a girl at the market and treats her like a pet.._., she thought, looking back at the ocean. Still, she had almost gave in and that thought scared her. She could remember herself taking her own clothes and asking him – no, _begging him_ – to be gentle. He had certainly taught her a lesson: after only twenty-four hours by his side, he had shown her that he could make her do whatever he wanted. A few confusing words, an imperious tone and she had almost surrendered. _Well, it won’t happen again_... Brianna looked back and saw that he was staring at her, analyzing her. _I bet he’s dying to know what's in my head..._ As she didn’t want to stay in his field of vision more than it was necessary, she went back down the stairs to the steerage. It was barely daybreak and she would have loved to take advantage of Bonnet’s absence to go back to bed and finish her night, but she would probably throw her guts up before she had time to fall asleep.

A man in his sixties, with grey bushy hair and beard, shoved her away, his arms loaded with scrolls and plans of the ship. He grumbled something in Gaelic and glared at her. Brianna was about to retort when the boy following the old man stopped in front of her. He couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen years old.

"Please excuse him, Miss. This is our carpenter, mister Murphy. He's from another time... When the Pirate Code strictly forbade women on board...", the young boy apologized, his cheeks turning red. "James Walsh," he added, holding out his hand, "but everyone calls me Jimmy."

"Nice to meet you, Jimmy.” Brianna grabbed his hand to shake it, but the boy brought hers to his mouth and kissed it lightly. "My name is Brianna Fraser, but you can call me Brianna. Or Bree."

"I wouldn't dare, Miss Brianna," he laughed. His ears were now scarlet. "Do you need anything? Water or food? A blanket? Just ask me!"

Brianna felt her heart warm up at the thought of having at least one nice person to talk to. She nodded and asked him where she could find food.

"I'll take you there, Miss, follow me!", the cabin boy said with pure delight. She followed him down, through corridors and stairs, until they reached the pantry. It was guarded by an actual giant, about two meters high, and almost as large.  
"Mr. Flanagan, do you have anything for Miss Fraser? She is starving!"

"I have herring," the giant replied with a shrug.

The mere idea of eating herring at dawn on an unstable ship repelled Brianna, and she politely asked if she could just have an apple or any other fruit he had in stock.

"Today, it’s herring. Only a few apples, lot of herring," the cook repeated in a deep, slow voice.

Brianna pursed her lips and saw young Jimmy give her a look that spoke volumes about Flanagan's manners and obsessions.

"Herring will be fine...", she said politely. He served her the whole fish, certainly smoked on the land before departure, on a metal plate and turned to mind his own business. Brianna and Jimmy left, hardly containing their laughter.

"I swear, Flanagan is not a bad lad, he's just... well, you saw him," he finished as they returned to the open air. "There’s more to him than meets the eye! I can't see how anyone could resist you anyway, Miss."

Brianna smiled cheerfully at him. She was feeling much better and the movements of the ship seemed to have stabilized. They had surely reached more peaceful waters. Or she had just gotten used to it.

"Give me your herring, if you don't want it. I stole this for you while he wasn’t looking!"

He took a banana out of his pocket and handed it to her with a smile that would melt any teenage girl’s heart. "Thanks, Jimmy," Brianna said. "But I don't want to get you into trouble..."

"Oh, don't worry, Miss Brianna…" He rubbed his freckled nose before running his hand through his reddish blonde hair. "I do this all the time."

"Oh really?” A cold voice spoke out behind them and Brianna could have sworn that Jimmy's soul had just left him. The boy jumped around stiffly.

"C… captain, that's not what I meant...", he mumbled as Bonnet approached.

"So you're saying _Miss Brianna_ forced you to steal this fruit from _my_ supplies?"

The cabin boy turned pale and shook his head frantically. "No, no, no, that's not what I said... I'm sorry, captain, it won't happen again."

With a look of regret towards Brianna, he ran away as fast as his skinny, lanky teenage legs allowed him. The young woman sighed and bit her lip. She had finally found someone to talk to on this ship, and Bonnet had made him scatter like a rabbit. And it was now on her that he darted his icy irises. Slowly, he closed the distance between them and Brianna stiffened. "You’re now using your charms to corrupt my men?", he whispered, placing his index finger under the young woman's chin.

"He just wanted to please me..."

"Exactly..." He lowered his face to stare angrily at her. "I think it is quite unfair for _you_ to be pleased, before I got the chance to be pleased first. A pleasure I already paid for, no less..."

"No one forced you to spend so much money on me..."

"You were less categorical when my money saved you from that old leper...", he replied with a wicked smile. "At that moment, you would even have married me if I had asked you to. What changed, darlin’?"

His sweet, sarcastic tone was infuriating, and in other circumstances, she would have replied harshly. But he was close, far too close, and terrifying. So she just scowled at him.

"Stay away from my men... Especially those who would be a little too nice to you."

"We are all stuck together on the same ship, how do you want me to stay away? Are you going to lock me up?” She raised her chin defiantly. Bad idea. The gesture only brought her lips a little closer and she saw the pirate's eyes linger briefly on them.

"Don't tempt me," he breathed with a sneer. They glared at each other for a few seconds, a strange tension settling between them. Brianna no longer dared to breathe, waiting for him to move away. Because he would move away eventually. She had nothing to do on this ship, so she had plenty of time, but he had better things to do. However, he did not move. _He is as stubborn as a mule_...

After what seemed like an eternity, however, Bonnet looked down again at Brianna's pursed lips and chuckled. Before finally turning away and leaving her alone by the stairs. He had been gone for almost ten seconds when her lungs painfully reminded her that they needed oxygen. She took a few breaths and decided she had had enough for today. She went down the stairs, and locked herself in Bonnet's cabin.

~o~

Stephen Bonnet had not returned to his cabin, much to Brianna's delight. She had first lied down for a few minutes, but couldn’t get any sleep and started to get bored. Eating her banana had not taken her more than two minutes. She glanced at the various chests around the room and wondered if they all contained the illegal fruits of Bonnet’s activities. Jumping to her feet, she opened the one closest to the bed and discovered piles of clothes, shirts, pants, stockings, vests, jackets, and soon lost interest. She closed it and moved to the next chest: it was full to the brim with silverware, precious items, and a few flasks of alcohol, which she sniffed and identified as whiskey. _Well_ … She took one of them out. It was clearly not quality whiskey and almost tasted like turpentine, to be honest. She capped the flask but did not put it back in the chest.

The third one was much more interesting. About twenty books were stacked inside, some in poorer condition than others, mainly because of the constant humidity. And judging by the musty smell, the lid was clearly not opened often. She reached inside to take each stack out of the chest and spread the books on the floor. _The Vicar of Wakefield_ , by Oliver Goldsmith caught her attention briefly, the name immediately reminding her of Roger. Roger Wakefield MacKenzie, her ex-boyfriend whom she would surely not see again anytime soon. If ever. But between saving her mother or picking up the pieces of her relationship with Roger, she had made her choice. She grabbed the book and replaced it at the bottom of the chest without even looking through its content.

The one that sparked her interest was _The Castle of Otranto, a gothic story_ , by Horace Walpole. Going through a few pages, she understood that it was a fantasy novel. She put it aside and moved on to the next, _Amelia_ , by Henry Fielding, a classic romantic drama that needed no introduction. She put it aside too. The third was quite a surprise: _Fanny Hill, Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure_ , by John Cleland was one of the very first novels considered erotic and banned by the Anglican church a few months after its publication. This was to be one of the rare copies still circulating despite the sentencing of its author. She slipped her fingers between the pages before closing the book right away. It was an illustrated copy, with detailed prints of its prostitute heroine. She took a swig of whiskey from her flask, winced and finally put the book on her own stack. _Just because it is prohibited, it would be a crime not to read it_ …, she chuckled internally, before adding _Pamela_ , by Samuel Richardson and _The History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews and his Friend Mr Abraham Adams_ , also written by Henry Fielding. She put everything that was not in English back in the chest, as well as a few books on botany, wondering what was the point of reading this in the middle of the ocean, where absolutely nothing could possibly grow.

Five books would keep her busy for a while. She took off her boots and fell back on the bed, bending her knees, before opening _The Castle of Otranto_. The book was the story of a Prince whose son died just before his wedding day, crushed by a gigantic helmet fallen from the sky. Brianna didn’t know what strange substances the author had used to come out with such a plot, but she definitely would need a few more sips of whiskey to go through the hundred pages of the book. The author’s style was strange and the fact that the Prince wanted to repudiate his own wife to marry his late son’s bride was rather chilling, but the book included elements which would later become classics of the genre, such as ghosts, bleeding statues and other disturbing prophecies. She was halfway through the book (and the flask) when Bonnet pushed the cabin door open with an exhausted sigh. But Brianna was too focused on her reading to notice him.

"Please, make yourself at home...", he grumbled at the sight of the books and the flask scattered on the bed sheets.

"That's what I did.”

He dropped on his back next to her and sighed loudly again. Obviously, that first day in the ocean hadn't been easy, but she would certainly not grant him the pleasure of asking about it. Without taking her eyes off the story, she grabbed the flask with her left hand, uncapped it with a finger, and took a sip.

"What is this about?”, he asked casually and Brianna sneered.

"Well, funny you should ask...", she quipped. "This is the story of a Prince who wants to force himself onto a girl, who is much younger than him... I don’t want to spoil the ending for you, but things are going pretty bad for him... You should think about that."

"How bad?", he asked, as he understood that she was referring to their own situation.

"Everyone hates him, he is haunted by ghosts and he goes crazy."

Bonnet raised his eyebrows, as if he was actually thinking about it and Brianna suppressed a satisfied grin.

"Hmm... but did the Prince fall in love with the maiden?", he finally asked.

"Indeed, he fell in love with her stunning beauty..."

"Ah!”, he exclaimed with a sly smile. "How reassuring… It sure won’t happen to me.”

Brianna's nasty look was so comical, that he had to fight the urge to burst out laughing. Instead, he put an arm under his head and closed his eyes, a vague mocking grin still floating on his lips.

A few minutes later, Bonnet's breathing had become slow and steady, and Brianna looked up from her book to watch him sleep. He seemed so calm, so harmless... But everything could change in a second when he was awake. _He is as changeable as the ocean,_ she suddenly thought, studying the pirate's features and more particularly the scar on his cheek. Fascinating, dangerous, unpredictable. But calm, most of the time. Until a raging storm broke out. Brianna felt the sudden urge to capture this rare display of serenity and carefully got up from the bunk to delve into the desk drawers. There had to be a piece of charcoal somewhere, in case he ran out of ink. She found some in a corner and flipped the logbook to open it on the last double page. She hadn't drawn for weeks, the few sheets of paper and charcoals she had taken with her were still in her room at the tavern in Wilmington. Settling silently on the table, she bit her lower lip and began to faithfully reproduce the features of the sleeping pirate.

His square jaw, his thin lips which even in his sleep seemed ready to make fun of her, his perfectly straight nose... The scar gave her a hard time: it started from the corner of his left eye and went down to the dimple that deepened when he laughed. About thirty minutes later, her portrait was almost finished and she put down the charcoal so that she could admire her work. There was not an ounce of anger or mischief on his face. If only she could bring up his humanity when he was awake, at least towards her, maybe he would finally let her go? Unharmed…

She sighed and was about to add some shadows to her piece of work when he suddenly straightened up on his bunk. His eyes on the logbook. _Shit_..., she swore internally when he jumped on his feet.

"I didn't find any paper, but it's only the last page, just pull it out-"

Without letting her finish, he grabbed the logbook and watched the drawing with an indefinable expression. Was he annoyed, incredulous, admirative, surprised, exasperated or all of the above? Was he going to yell at her? Congratulate her? Tear the paper into a thousand pieces or frame it? She had no idea.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what has gotten into me...", she added faintly.

Bonnet frowned and the muscles in his cheeks tensed, as if he was thinking. Taking the logbook away, he made his way to another drawer in his desk, which Brianna hadn't opened. He took out a sheaf of yellowed paper and dropped it on the table in front of her.

"Next time, use this."

Brianna blinked several times in awe. She closed her mouth after a few seconds, when she realized that she probably looked like a fish out of water. There was a glimmer of admiration in his green eyes and she understood that his donation of equipment was actually a compliment. She smiled and nodded. "Thank you…"

He shrugged, as if he didn't care about wasting paper for her, but smiled back nonetheless. A warm feeling, _hope_ , overwhelmed Brianna’s heart and she thought that maybe everything was not lost. Until he opened his mouth again...

"Make them last, if I have to buy you supplies in each port, you will soon owe me more than a hundred pounds...", he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Brianna's smile fell and she rolled her eyes. "Right..." He couldn't spend five minutes without reminding her that he owned her; it was getting boring.

"Duty calls, sweetheart..." He yawned and put the logbook back on the table before leaning over Brianna’s ear. She narrowed her eyes, knowing that he was about to say something hilarious. According to his own criteria, of course. And this time was no exception: "If you want, when I come back, you could draw other parts of my-"

"There is no need to finish that sentence," she interrupted in a loud voice as he smiled, obviously very proud of himself. She shook her head and he straightened up to leave, brushing her neck with his fingers. Brianna jumped at his touch but when she turned around, he had already disappeared in the corridor.

~o~

The days that followed the portrait incident were quite calm. Brianna had spent most of her time drawing on the deck, saving as much paper as possible, in case Bonnet carried out his threat. The _Gloriana's_ portrait gallery was expanding a little more every day and she had even gotten some compliments from curious sailors. Jimmy had smiled brightly when he had recognized himself among the sketches, while the first mate, some guy named O'Brien, had come to ask her if it was possible to draw some scantily dressed women for him. “Because I obviously love Art”, he had said. Even the grumpy carpenter had seemed intrigued from afar when young Jimmy had told him about the undeniable talent of their passenger.

As for the captain, she quickly understood that his lifestyle at sea was very different from a normal human being’s. He slept thirty minutes to an hour, then got up to deal with various structural problems with the carpenter, tensions between sailors with the foreman, or simply to steer the ship. Brianna did not complain. Taking some distance from the man made the crossing less stressful and she quickly noticed that he was taking his duties very seriously. Too much to waste time chasing after her or tormenting her. So much so that when they arrived in Philadelphia, after eight days of traveling, her fear of the pirate had lessened somewhat. And it wasn’t necessarily a good thing…

Perched on her usual spot at the front of the ship, Brianna watched the _Gloriana_ enter the Delaware Bay. In a hundred kilometers or so, they would have run up the Delaware River, which separated the eponymous state from New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and reach Philadelphia. In the twentieth century, with its skyscrapers and historic monuments, the city was not different from any other on the East Coast, but Brianna now had the opportunity to discover the authentic Philadelphia. As it was in the beginning and in History books. _And I will finally know what will happen to me_..., she thought, rubbing her hands over her arms to warm them up. The weather wasn’t cold yet in the North, but it was nowhere near as hot as the Caribbean. She would have to find something warmer and more appropriate if she wanted to avoid troubles around here.

She was deep in her thoughts, when O'Brien's voice made her jump. She turned to stare at the first mate of the _Gloriana_ and saw his face darken. "Miss Fraser... The captain asked me to take you back to his cabin."

 _Huh?_ Brianna frowned and shook her head. "What do you mean?"

"Just for a few days, until we leave Philadelphia."

Her eyelids fluttered. Had she heard correctly? Bonnet wanted to lock her up until they got back to sea? In a few days? _He’s got to be kidding me_ … She smiled politely and raised her index finger in the air. "Can you give me a minute? Thank you.” Without waiting for an answer, she went past O’Brien and quickly climbed up the stairs to the upper deck. Bonnet was standing behind the wheel and his face hardened as she approached. _So, he knew that I would be angry... Perfect.._., she thought, crossing her arms in front of him. “I won’t let you lock me up here.”

"Do you really think I’m stupid? If I don't lock you up, you'll run away."

"I have no money, no decent clothes and I am seven hundred miles away from my family... Where exactly would I go?"

He sneered, as if he didn’t believe a single word. "Oh, I don't know… To see the red coats, maybe?”

 _Oh, right..._ She frowned and he could tell from her face that she hadn't actually considered it... until now.

"Great...", he grumbled, "now I have even more reasons to leave you here."

"I will not go to the red coats!”, she whined, horrified by the sound of her own voice. She sounded like a five-year-old girl trying to get dessert instead of vegetables. "I just want... I _need_ to get out, I'm suffocating."

"You are literally in the great outdoors every single day."

"Get out of the _ship_. You can have me chaperoned... " As Bonnet let out a cold laugh, she added: "Or better, I could stay with you! Be your secretary!"

"My what?"

Brianna bit her lip. She didn’t know if the position already existed at the time. "You are going to sell your goods somewhere, right? There will be notes to take, amounts to calculate, an inventory to keep... I will take care of everything, and you will just have to...", she waved her hand in front of her, having no idea how to finish her sentence, "... do your pirate thing."

Bonnet stared at her for a very long time, his face completely neutral. Once again, it was impossible to know whether he would stand to his ground or accept her offer. Behind Brianna, O’Brien had just joined them and the captain turned to him.

"She wants to come with me to see my clients...", he laughed, pointing at Brianna.

O'Brien snorted, as if he had just heard a good joke. "This is not a place for a young lady..."

"Oh right, because a squalid cabin on a smuggler's ship _is_ a place for a lady?", she spat as Bonnet repeated "squalid” in a low voice, as if the word had seriously offended him. O'Brien just raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Well, so be it," said the captain with a sigh, and O’Brien stared incredulously at him. "But you should find a more suitable outfit."

Brianna's face lit up and she immediately went down to the cabin, unaware of the knowing look that Bonnet gave to the other Irishman. It wasn't until the cabin door slammed behind her, the key turning in the lock, that she realized that he had just played another bad trick on her.

 _The bastard... He thinks he can outsmart me?_ _All right_... She walked over to the French doors that led to the balcony and saw the key was still there. An evil smile appeared on her lips when a plan took shape in her mind.

~o~

Lurking in the shadows of the balcony, Brianna was waiting. As soon as the boat would reach the dock, she would climb the railing, go along the hull and jump on the land. Passing the strap of a satchel – that she had filled with paper, the logbook, an inkwell and a quill – around her neck and one arm, she stepped over the railing and on the other side. The cracks and lumps carved in the wood were more than enough to serve as climbing holds and she began to slide around the stern of the ship. She had swapped her bulky skirt for pants and men's stockings, before using it to wrap the quill and the inkwell.

She was getting close to the dock and went down a little more along the hull to be sure not to hurt herself. When she was close enough, she grabbed a gun port with one hand and passed the strap of the bag over her head with the other. Before throwing it on the dock. A few seconds later, she jumped off the ship and landed hard on her feet. Just in time to see the sailors of the _Gloriana_ install the walkway that would allow them to unload the ship. She smiled victoriously and picked up her satchel to take her skirt out and check that the inkwell was not broken.

Two men watching the arrival of the ship whistled in her direction, eyeing her curves, and she groaned. She missed the 1960s and the ability to wear pants. She turned away from them and stared at the deployed walkway. Jimmy was leaving the ship when he noticed her on the dock, his face displaying a mix of dread and admiration, while the old carpenter at his side grumbled loudly. Probably something about women on ships. Or women who dressed up as men. Or both. She took her skirt out of her bag and tucked it over her head to hide her pants. Then, she looked up and saw that Bonnet had joined his cabin boy on the dock. Even at that distance, she could see his eyes ready to pop out of their sockets. _Don’t be afraid, he can’t hurt you in front of the crowd, anyway…_ Smiling, she put the strap of the bag over her shoulder and spread her arms, before exclaiming:

“Come on, what are you waiting for?”

And without further ado, she turned on her heels and set off.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Needless to say, Bonnet will be _a little bit_ angry after this act of disobedience! xD And Brianna could even pay dearly for the consequences, but not as she would imagine… I hope you enjoyed this chapter and see you next Monday for the next!**

**Xérès**


	4. Dh’èirich mi moch, b' fheàrr nach do dh’èirich

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Here is the fourth chapter of this fiction, I hope you’ll like it! Last time, Brianna had just left the ship right under Bonnet's nose, but he has not yet said his last word...**

**As always, don't hesitate to leave a quick comment after reading, it's always nice! :)**

**Enjoy this chapter !**

**oOoOo**

  1. _Dh’èirich mi moch, b' fheàrr nach do dh’èirich_ (I got up early, it would have been better not to)



With a delighted smile, Brianna looked at the harbor and the city beyond. Of all the docks that stretched for miles along the Delaware River, Bonnet had moored on this one, two hundred meters away from Christ Church. The presence of the Episcopalian Church right in front of her could only mean one thing: a few hundred meters further in the city was the Pennsylvania State House, where the Declaration of Independence of the United States would be signed six years from now, and which would become Independence Hall, one of the most emblematic monuments in the history of the nation. She was dying to go there, but the sound of heavy boots approaching dangerously reminded her that she would have little chance of sightseeing.

"I thought I’d made myself clear...", Bonnet hissed, pulling her by the elbow, but Brianna was determined not to let herself be impressed. A decision she almost regretted when the pirate glared at her with hellfire in his eyes.

"You told me to find a more suitable outfit, that's what I did..."

"And when Mr. O’Brien locked the cabin door, the idea that I had abused your naivety never crossed your mind?" His irises were now darker than a forest on a moonless night, but he had lowered his tone as a few people were sending curious looks in their direction.

"Locked? Oh, I didn’t notice that..." The pressure he exerted on her arm increased and she tried to free herself, in vain. "If you do anything to me, I’ll scream."

"Are you all right, miss?" A man was staring at the both of them suspiciously. He was wearing a blacksmith's leather apron and held a gigantic hammer in his right hand, which Bonnet had definitely noticed.

Brianna silently challenged the pirate to do anything that would make her carry out her threat, but he remained pleasantly dumb in front of the huge tool, and she shook her head, smiling.

"It's nothing, sir. A simple disagreement. Thank you for your consideration…”

The blacksmith sent Bonnet an evil glance and turned away. The pirate waited until he was far enough before turning to Brianna again. "What do you want from me, exactly?"

"Nothing! I just want... to go out, see something more than water and sails, take a long walk instead of going around in circles”, she pleaded. "I will not bother you and I will write everything down for you..." He narrowed his eyes. "...Please..." No reaction. "Pretty please?"

A slight smile raised the corner of his lips. "Beg me," he whispered, leaning over her.

"I'm-begging-you," she repeated like a child reciting a boring lesson.

He seemed somewhat unsatisfied and grabbed her hips to pull her against him. "Better than that... Say it like you mean it."

"I can also say it very, very, very loudly...", she threatened him, trying to put a maximum of distance between their faces, but he wrapped her waist as tightly as ivy around a tree.

He was about to retort when two old women passed by, glaring at them. "Young women have no restraint, these days...", exclaimed one of them, as if being stuck to a bloody pirate was Brianna’s fault.

"Just like old ones, apparently," Brianna replied, clearly stung by the statement. The mouths of the two gossips opened widely in perfect synchronization, and as she glared at them, she felt Bonnet release her.

"Let's not attract too much attention, if you don't mind...", he mumbled, pulling her by the arm to an alley nearby.

"It depends... Can I come with you or not?"

He pushed her until her back hit the wall of the nearest building. "You ask a lot and you give very little, Brianna Fraser... I wonder how I could even tolerate this for ten days."

"I am serving you a treasure on a silver platter, isn’t that enough?"

"At the moment, this treasure is a pipe dream. It is much less tangible than _this_...” To back-up his words, he grabbed her hips and pulled her against him for the second time today. Brianna held her breath for a moment. Now that they were back on the land, far from the constant attention the ocean required, he was hungry for flesh again. There were definitely two Stephen Bonnets: the one ashore and the one at sea. She honestly didn’t know which one she preferred.

"Aren't dreams the food of the soul?", she whispered, shivering when Bonnet's hands slid towards her buttocks.

"I have been reliably informed that I don’t have one..."

As if to confirm what he had said, Brianna dived her blue irises into his, looking for the smallest trace of a conscience. But she encountered nothing but green. Intense, hypnotic, very much like Kaa’s, the snake from _The Jungle Book_ , which she had seen at the movies with her mother a year before she left. As in slow motion, she saw Bonnet's face get closer to hers, and found herself unable to move. _You can’t or you won't?,_ a voice hissed in her head, but she had no answer. She felt the pirate's fingers sink even deeper into the flesh of her waist, as if to dissuade her from trying to escape. Bonnet's breath stroked her cheek and she braced herself, waiting for him to capture her lips and devour them.

But instead, he leaned a little closer and whispered against her ear: "You said you would scream..."

Brianna's eyelids fluttered and she realized that her lips had parted unconsciously, as if she was inviting him to kiss her. Awaking from her trance, she pulled away as she understood he had once again played with her nerves. He wanted to play? Fine... She narrowed her eyes, took a deep breath and prepared to let out the most strident sound in her entire life.

No sooner had the first notes come out of her mouth than the pirate had put his hand on it, looking worried. A few people had turned around in the street, to determine where the sound came from. His fingers still gagging Brianna, he carried her a little further down the alley.

"All right, all right... Just shut up, by Danu!"

He felt the vibrations against the palm of his hand stop and slowly let go, ready to silence her the second she made another sound. But Brianna just stared at him triumphantly.

~o~

They had walked along the harbor for a while, before diving into a few dark alleys until they reached a dead end and a dilapidated carriage gate. Clamors could be heard on the other side, male voices mostly, over-excited and probably drunk.

"Where are we?”, Brianna asked suspiciously. But Bonnet did not answer and pushed the door open.

They arrived in what looked like an inner courtyard, bordered by derelict buildings. In the back of the courtyard, a crowd had gathered around something that seemed to take place on the ground, as all eyes were turned down to the center of their circle. They were all cheering or yelling angrily and when the shrill cry of an angry fowl pierced the atmosphere, Brianna assumed they were watching a cockfight. There were tables to play cards, others offering opium and smoking pipes, alcohol and tobacco. She had been in all-male company for such a long time that it took Brianna at least one minute to realize that she was probably the only woman around. Until she saw four other girls, tied up against a wall, waiting to be sold.  
Bonnet had seen her look at them and leaned towards her. "Welcome to my world, lass..."

Brianna tried to compose herself a neutral expression, but this was all too disturbing. The place was a real cesspool, which only purpose was to sell, buy, bet, or play whatever was most questionable or illegal on the planet. One of the stalls on her left caught her eye and she froze. Leaves, seeds and flowers of a plant that the young people of the 60s knew only too well were spread on its surface. She could hear the seller promote his product to a very circumspect customer.

"This is much better than what the Spanish have produced in Chile so far. The savages grow it in Virginia, along the Potomac River…”

 _The natives_ , Brianna corrected mentally, smiling at the sight of the plant. The last time she had smoked marijuana was during her first year of college and she was so sick afterwards that she had never tried it again. Her roommate, Gayle, had to ‘borrow’ a wheelbarrow from the campus gardener to bring her back to their dormitory.

"Come here, that thing is not for the lassies...", Bonnet said, pulling her by the arm in the middle of the crowd. She was about to tell him that she had already tried it, but resisted the urge to brag. A chorus of cheers and protests in the back of the courtyard indicated that one of the roosters had lost the fight and a few bags of coins passed from hand to hand, while the unfortunate poultry was evacuated to the kitchens.

Bonnet dragged Brianna into one of the buildings, jostling between visitors to make her way to a quiet living room. The men who were there were fewer and cleaner, even petty bourgeois. They were probably distributors more than consumers.

"Ah, Mr. Bonnet, you are finally here... and in charming company?”, one of the men said, immediately turning to Brianna and bowing to her. The man was in his forties, had short dark hair and his face was covered with old acne scars. He would have looked like a perfect gentleman if his smile had only reached his small piercing eyes. “Charles MacNamara, owner of this facility."

"Brianna Fraser," she introduced herself, bowing down as well. _Another Irish_ , she added internally, _a real mafia_...

"Miss Fraser is my..." Bonnet looked hesitantly at Brianna, "my secretary."

"Ah!”, the man laughed, nodding. "Congratulations. Secretaries are an outward sign of success. Although I am more used to seeing men hold this position…”

"Believe me, what she lacks to match a man in intelligence, she makes up in determination...", Bonnet said with a sly grin. Brianna did her best not to glare at him and smiled at MacNamara.

"It all depends on the man... the task is more difficult with some than others...", she concluded, looking straight at the pirate.

Bonnet's smile wavered slightly and he turned his furious irises towards her. However, the other man seemed to find her comment hilarious and it was between two bursts of laughter that he invited them to sit at his table. Brianna opened her satchel and immediately pulled out a sheet of paper, the logbook, the inkwell and the quill, enjoying Bonnet's astonishment. He clearly hadn’t seen this coming and she did her best not to gloat.

"Do you have the shipment of whiskey and tobacco I ordered from you?", MacNamara asked, turning to Bonnet, who nodded. "What about the weapons?"

"Everything will be sent in the next few hours to the usual place, in exchange for the amount we agreed upon..."

Brianna silently opened the logbook and went up a few pages before finding one of the last orders with the letters “McN”. Her eyes almost popped out of their sockets and she hid her amazement behind a brief coughing fit. "Excuse me... three hundred thousand pounds, is that right?"

She saw Bonnet frown imperceptibly, but he just nodded. MacNamara raised a hand to catch the attention of a sinister man waiting in the corner of the room. The man nodded in silence and disappeared down the hall.

"I think I'll order the same amount of whiskey and weapons for our next meeting, but your imported tobacco has become too expensive..." He saw Bonnet’s features harden at his remark and raised his hands in appeasement. "Understand me, my friend, Virginia now produces massive amounts of tobacco. Sixty-seven million pounds sterling in the year 1769 alone. _Sixty-seven million_ …”

Brianna lowered her nose and began to copy the quantities of whiskey and weapons on a separate piece of paper. She had perfectly understood a few days earlier that the logbook was off limits.

"But you are a long-time partner, Mr. Bonnet... And I understand that my tobacco represented a significant part of our business," he went on. "This is why I would like to know if you were aware of the new products in circulation... Two men brought back interesting plants from the Spanish colonies, but the market is still... confidential. Opium and hemp are common in the Pacific, but still rare around here."

"I will consider it, but it's not really the kind of business I've been involved in so far..."

Brianna frowned. She had a certain tolerance for marijuana, for its recreational aspect, but she had too often read in nineteenth-century novels the damages caused by opium, especially in Europe. If she could save a few lives on this continent by directing their business in a less dangerous direction, it would be a small victory.

"Would you allow me to make a suggestion, Mr. MacNamara?”

She assumed by the look on Bonnet’s face that he didn't allow her at all, but his client seemed both astonished and charmed by her intervention, and he nodded with a curious smile.

"Opium is an extremely powerful substance, so dangerous that the Chinese emperor tried to banish it for the good of his people, who abused it. In vain, unfortunately. Consumers quickly become dependent, amorphous, unable to get up... Opium dens are full of dying men and I don't think it is good for business to kill your customers in the medium term..." She replaced her straight face with a smile and went on: "Hemp, as you call it, on the other hand, is much less dangerous and can also be used to relieve pain. It can be smoked, brewed and even mixed with food, the possibilities are endless. And I’ve heard it grows at a phenomenal rate in Virginia…”, she added with a slight nod.

MacNamara was staring at her, absolutely impressed and burst into laughter. "She’s a real gem, Mr. Bonnet... I’ll follow your advice, then. An order of ten thousand pounds sterling will be enough for a first time."

Smiling, Brianna dipped the quill into the ink and added a new line to her list.

"No problem at sea or in port?”, MacNamara asked, turning back to the pirate.

"No trouble whatsoever."

"It may not last, a war is coming... The English are getting nervous, French products have been banned since the end of the Seven Years' War, we are burdened with taxes to bail out the Crown... Your shipments are precious to me, and to the growing number of patriots, here in Philadelphia… I would like to make sure that you won’t disappear on the other side of the world when things will heat up…”

"Wars are a boon to my profession: everyone is willing to buy anything at any price...", Bonnet said happily, ignoring Brianna's slightly contemptuous look.

"I will consider this as good news for me...", his client laughed before waving a hand at another man sitting at a nearby table. Brianna vaguely wondered if all the men in the room were at his service and watched the henchman approach. "Miss Fraser, it was a real pleasure to meet you and benefit from your valuable advice... Allow me to offer you something..." He turned to his henchman. "Malcolm, take Miss Fraser upstairs so she can choose a present..."

"It really isn't necessary," Brianna said politely, shaking her head.

"I insist.” He grabbed the young woman's hand and brought it to his lips. Brianna felt herself blush like a teenager and distinctly heard Bonnet clicking his tongue irritatingly. Gathering her things in her satchel, she got up and followed the said Malcolm to the first floor, where hundreds of jewels and fabrics were stored, probably stolen from merchant ships. Malcolm stretched out his hand towards the stalls to invite her to help herself. She stepped forward, sneaking between the men and women gathering around the goods. An impressive jewelry collection stood a few yards away and she almost cried with joy. If she ever wanted to return to her time, she had to have a gemstone with her, a price you had to pay to travel through the stones. Bonnet would surely not leave her anything from the treasure. She might as well keep a stone with her just in case...

She walked along the tables for a moment, passing by huge conspicuous necklaces, wide and uncomfortable bracelets, or useless chatelaines as she had no keys to hang on them. She was about to lose hope when she saw it. In a corner, ignored by everyone because of its simplicity, was a nice black velvet choker. In the center was a small silver ring with an emerald pendant. The emerald itself was finely cut and framed with silver in the shape of an _Irish_ clover. She suppressed a sneer and grabbed the velvet ribbon between her fingers, caressing the green stone. It was easy to store in a discreet place, she could prevent Bonnet from taking it. He didn't even have to know that she had it. She would come back pretending she hadn’t found anything she liked...

But Malcolm delicately took the jewel from her hand to tie it around her neck, despite her protests. "Mr. MacNamara will want to see his gift on you, miss. And if I may, it's an excellent choice..."

Brianna smiled politely but said nothing. She would find another way to make the pendant disappear a little later… and hope that Bonnet forgot its existence. They went back down to the living room, where the two Irishmen were sipping a glass of whiskey. The discussion seemed tense, but MacNamara's face immediately lit up when he saw the young woman return. "Magnificent...", he commented as he stood up and she smiled at him. "I have to say that usually, jewelry sublimate women... but in this case, you sublimate the jewelry, my dear."

"Let’s not get carried away...", Bonnet mumbled, standing up and finishing his whiskey in one gulp. "An interesting choice, though..."

"My friend," the receiver said, as they shook hands. “See you tonight for the transaction. In the meantime, I wish you... ", he turned to Brianna, "and _my new_ _best friend_... a very pleasant day."

Brianna greeted him with a graceful nod, before Bonnet grabbed her by the arm again to head back to the courtyard.

"What were you talking about?”, she asked.

"Nothing that concerns you.” He looked down at her neck, with a mocking expression. "Is it some kind of hidden message?"

"Calm down, it's just a clover..."

"If you say so…"

She rolled her eyes and was about to remind him that he was not the center of the universe, when a thick hand grabbed her other arm and tugged on it violently. Brianna winced. The man looked more like a bear, with an inextricable mass of long, dirty brown hair mingled with a beard of the same color and almost the same cleanliness. His hands were as wide as tennis rackets.

"How much for an hour?”, he asked Bonnet.

"She’s not for lease...", he growled, and then added: "Yet..."

Brianna scowled. As the man’s hand didn’t move, Bonnet stopped joking, pulling a long knife out of his belt. The bear immediately let go and stepped back, his hands raised. Bonnet sheathed his blade with a satisfied look and grabbed Brianna again to leave the premises. Without suspecting for one second that they were being followed.

~o~

With a sigh, Brianna replaced her cutlery on her empty plate and let herself fall back into her seat. After visiting other customers, Bonnet had brought her back to the ship, leaving soon after dark to honor his transactions in more discreet places than the docks. When Jimmy and other young sailors, who were not on duty or already asleep, had offered her a hot meal in a pub nearby, she had followed them without hesitation.

"Better than herring and cod, right?”, Jimmy asked cheerfully, finishing his own meat pie.

"I'd love to have more, but I'm going to explode..." She yawned. The food and alcohol in her stomach now made her want to curl up and sleep for a whole week.

The pub owner stepped forward with a delighted smile. Their small group filled half of his lobby, and he kept offering them more food and drinks. This time was no exception: "I have a delicious pear schnapps produced by my brother-in-law in New Jersey, I’m sure you’ll like it!” Without waiting for confirmation, he filled everyone's glasses, including Brianna's, who swelled her cheeks and rolled her eyes while Jimmy burst into laughter. The man had already made them taste each and every alcohol produced by the various members of his family and Brianna's cheekbones had turned a bright shade of pink halfway between the French cousin’s wine and the grandfather's plum brandy.

"If you don't want it...", the young boy started, but Brianna immediately grabbed her glass and raised it into the air.

" _Sláinte_!", she yelled at their host, soon imitated by the laughing sailors. The pear burnt her throat, her esophagus, then her stomach and she winced. "I think I liked the plum better..."

"I can get it for you, if you want!", the man exclaimed while filling the others’ glasses again.

"No thank you, it's fine," Jimmy laughed, confiscating Brianna's glass. "The captain will kill us if we bring her back drunk."

"Ah, if she’s the captain’s wife, then..."

"I am not his wife!", Brianna protested vehemently, taking her glass from Jimmy's hands. A second later, the pub owner had filled it with pear schnapps. Or plum brandy. _Who cares, a fruit is a fruit…_ , she thought, swallowing half of the glass. Bonnet’s absence had relaxed both her and the sailors, who could finally release the pressure that had built up at sea. She had gotten to know a few of them, but they were all far too busy to chat when they were on duty. But ashore, the abundance of food and alcohol had helped loosing tongues, and she had discovered with great pleasure that the youngest sailors were excellent company. The oldest of their gang was probably O’Brien, who was nearly twenty-five years old. The others had stayed on the ship, preferring to make up for the lack of sleep accumulated at sea rather than to accompany them in town.

"It’s true! She’s not his wife, she’s his carrot!”, laughed one of the sailors, named Boyle.

"His carrot?", repeated the innkeeper and Brianna in unison.

As everyone else laughed, Jimmy explained, with an apologetic smile: "When normal people go to the market, they bring back fruits, vegetables or meat. The captain... well, he brought _you_ back", he explained as O'Brien reached out to gently pull on a red wick from Brianna’s head.

"And that’s why the guys said you’re his carrot..." They laughed again and Brianna slowly nodded.

"Great... thank you... thank you very much..."

Another hour went by before they finally decided to go back to the ship, leaving behind them a considerable amount of pounds. Huge clouds from the ocean had obscured the night sky, not even giving the moon a chance to show up, and all of Philadelphia was plunged into darkness. The group had just turned around the corner when Brianna realized with a shiver that she had forgotten her jacket and after warning Jimmy, she turned around to go back to the tavern. She was leaving the pub again when she heard footsteps in the dark alley. She turned around, expecting to see the cabin boy or another sailor, but she was wrong.

She only had time to scream before the shaggy giant, who had asked for an hour with her at MacNamara's, struck her down with a violent punch in the face. One second later, she fell into unconsciousness.

When her eyes fluttered, the first thing she felt was the pain in her left cheek and in the back of her neck. She groaned and opened her eyes. Everything was familiar around her and she quickly understood that she was in Bonnet's cabin, on the _Gloriana_. What had happened? She remembered going out to eat with the young sailors, eating and drinking a lot... But the pain she felt had nothing to do with a hangover. Brianna straightened up on her seat and a throbbing pain in her brain reminded her of the massive hairy fist that had hit her cheek, plunging her into complete darkness. She put a hand on her cheekbone and winced. The whole area was painful to the touch, and she assumed that a huge hematoma had spread over half of her face.

The good news was that she was on Bonnet’s ship, which meant someone had prevented her attacker from harming her and brought her back. With slow gestures, she stood up, trying to ignore her migraine. She left the cabin with small steps, following the handrail of the passageway. That’s when she heard it. A furious voice echoing in the corridors. She climbed the stairs to the steerage and froze when her eyes got high enough to see what was going on. Her attacker was on his knees near the railing, his hands tied behind his back and his face swollen. He wasn’t the only one displaying pretty colors, however. Jimmy and a few other sailors, with whom she had spent the evening, had blackened eyes, bloody noses and cracked lips. They seemed to have fought like devils against their opponent, but the latter was so gigantic that it had certainly taken half a dozen men to subdue him.

However, the yells did not come from them or their prisoner, but from Bonnet pacing between the man kneeling on the ground and the two rows of standing sailors.

"... follow me, attack my men, you have to be damn ballsy... or stupid..." He turned, passing by the sailors once again. "Just as stupid as those who took _my_ property for dinner in town, when I wasn’t looking..."

Brianna saw O’Brien grit his teeth when his captain yelled a little too close to his right eardrum. Bonnet went back to his prisoner.

"I'm sorry, captain," O’Brien began, his nose still bleeding and smearing his shirt with scarlet droplets. "It won't happen ag-"

Before the first mate could finish his sentence, Bonnet had drawn his knife and cut the throat of the kidnapper, who collapsed on deck with a disgusting gurgle. Brianna jumped and placed her hand over her mouth. None of the sailors had moved an inch, despite the violence of the gesture, and they didn’t even lower their eyes to witness the dying man’s last jolts of life.

In the stairs, Brianna was shaking. She could not take her eyes off the stream of blood that spurted from the gaping wound onto the deck.

"Throw _that_ in the water...", Bonnet growled, waving at two of his men, who quickly disposed of the body into the sea. It hit the surface with a loud clap, before the ship went silent again. This was the moment Brianna’s foot chose to slide off the edge of a step and loudly hit the step below. Several sailors turned around, but she paid them no attention. Bonnet had turned too and his cold, almost inhuman expression hit her hard. He was not a man, but a beast. A bloodthirsty, dangerous, untamable beast. She had been stupid to think she would ever convince him to let her go. The false sweetness and interest he had in her were just his way of playing with his prey. _Men like him don't let anyone go_...

She ran down the stairs again as fast as her shaky legs would allow her. But he was chasing her, and as she was about to close the cabin door behind her, he brutally pushed the panel open.

"You killed him... Just like that, you killed him..."

"He attacked my men...", he hissed, walking slowly towards her, his eyes flashing with anger. "He was taking you away..."

"You slit his throat..."

"Seven of my best sailors got injured to rescue you and that’s all you have to say?"

Brianna's back hit the table in the center of the room and she stopped. A second later, Bonnet had slipped a hand through her red hair to bring her forehead against his.

"I told you to stay on the damn ship, but you never listen to me..."

"It's not my fault...", Brianna whined as he painfully tightened his fingers around her head.

"Are you suggesting it was my men's fault?"

"NO!” She suppressed a sob. "It was this man's fault. He’s the one who attacked me, it’s not because I went out or because your crew made a mistake. He’s the one responsible."

"Then, he deserved it."

"No one deserves to die like that..."

"Have you thought for one second what would have happened to you if none of them had come to your rescue? Have you, sweetheart?”, he spat out angrily. Without waiting for an answer, he ran his hands behind her thighs and sat her on the table, before pulling up her skirt. The touch of his hands on her bare skin reminded her that she had removed her pants shortly before dinner in order to be more comfortable. This was obviously a mistake. She tried to squeeze her thighs, but he had placed himself between them and held her tightly. "I suspect that, unlike me, he would have ignored your little speech... He would have fucked you like a whore and left for dead in the gutter..."

Anger was now taking hold of Brianna. Was he suggesting to thank him for treating her ‘right’? To award him a medal and call him her hero? Had he forgotten that he had bought her for his sole pleasure and imprisoned her ever since? Furious, she narrowed her eyes and lifted her face towards his. "You’d hate that... To know that someone else got there first...?", she spat with evident disdain.

The situation was going out of control. Brianna was fully aware of this, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. Worse, she didn't want to. The violence of the scene, combined with ten days of captivity on a ship, away from her parents, deprived of her most basic rights, all of this now came out as a cold rage. She was itching to push him to the limit, to see how far she could go, to enjoy his disbelief in front of a woman who resisted him like no one before her. Bonnet's entire body had stiffened, and he was staring at her with anger and excitement, one hand still clasped over her hip and the other tugging on her hair. And against the inside of her right thigh, a bulge in the pirate’s pants indicated that her rebellious behavior aroused him.

“If you don’t want me to disappear… Just watch me yourself… But I won’t let myself be locked up just because you’re afraid of _competition_ …”

He glared at her and pulled her hair backwards. “I was obviously far too lenient with you. You forgot who’s in charge here…”

“For about eight days, I had the feeling that it was me…”, she retorted with a cold smile.

Bonnet’s eyes widened at her audacity and she knew she had gone too far. She was about to say a few prayers for the sake of her soul when someone spoke at the cabin door. O’Brien’s swollen and bloody face appeared in the door frame, before turning away immediately when he noticed the captain’s and his prisoner’s position.

“Captain, it seems that one of the barrels delivered this afternoon was broken, the customer is on the dock, asking for compensation…”

“Give him whatever he wants and a second barrel…”, Bonnet retorted without moving an inch. He was determined not to let Brianna win another battle.

“He wants to talk to you, captain…”

The pirate closed his eyes briefly before diving back into Brianna’s. She was looking down on him triumphantly and he wished he could tear off her clothes to remind her of her place. “This conversation is not over…”

“It is for me,” she whispered angrily against his lips, making each syllable stand out.

The pirate took two steps back and Brianna immediately threw her skirt over her legs, stood up straight, and glared at him. Bonnet was still angry, but she could also see excitement in his eyes, as well as an unhealthy desire for control, and a touch of admiration. _Just a touch_. Without another word, he turned around and disappeared into the corridor. O’Brien had not moved, however, and Brianna looked apologetically at his injuries.

“Thank you, all of you, for rescuing me and bringing me back safe… I’m sorry you were hurt because of me…”

O’Brien frowned. “With all due respect, miss, if you want to thank us for saving your life, don’t play games with _him_ … You will certainly lose.”

And without saying goodbye, he slammed the cabin door behind him, leaving her alone again.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Aaaand that’s all for today! What did you think of this chapter? What do you think Bonnet will do after this terrible argument? And also, what do you think about MacNamara and the mysterious topic of his discussion with Bonnet before Brianna’s return?**

**Next chapter will be here next Monday, until then, I wish you a great week!**

**Xérès**


	5. Fáinne Geal an Lae

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**And here is the fifth chapter of this fiction! Remember, we had left Brianna and Bonnet in the middle of a heated argument about her trip to town and her disobedience… I hope you enjoy this new chapter and as always, do not hesitate to leave a comment if you liked my work! ;)**

**Thanks everyone for your comments and Kudoz on last chapter, I hope you’ll enjoy this one!**

**oOo**

  1. _Fáinne Geal an Lae_ (Dawning of the day)



Brianna knew exactly when the adrenaline rush caused by her altercation with Bonnet had stopped: thirty-seven minutes and twenty-eight seconds after he had left to solve the barrel problem. That was how long it had taken for her anger, her fear and her rage to fade away. Leaving nothing else behind but despair. Thirty-seven minutes and twenty-eight seconds, before she suddenly burst into tears on the cabin floor.

A man had died tonight. A bad one, definitely, but she couldn't help but feel partly responsible. She had literally begged Bonnet to let her out, without thinking whether the people they encountered in his environment would be dangerous for her or those with her. Just like the inhabitants of tiny car-free islands are not used to look both ways before crossing the street when they are on the continent, her personality as a modern young woman was completely ignorant of the dangers lurking on every street corner in this century. She was too self-confident, too independent, and she had one hell of a big mouth... If she was too careless, she would never survive. This time, half a dozen people had been injured. And one was dead. What would happen next time?

Once there were no tears left to be shed, she dried her face and despair gave way to apprehension. When Bonnet would come back, she would have to bear the consequences of her attitude. She shivered at the thought of his hands all over her body, touching her more or less violently. The way he was looking at her. How he had perched her on the table, an hour earlier... She almost regretted the quiet days at sea, when he was too tired or busy to worry about her.

Their heated argument, and her various acts of rebellion throughout the day, could not end well. When he would return, he would only think about one thing: bring her to her knees. And she would deserve it...

Her cheek hurt like hell and she walked over to the cold water bucket to soak a cloth and apply it on her face. She sat on the bed wearily, reviewing everything she could say to convince Bonnet to spare her. But absolutely nothing came to her mind. She had crossed a line and O'Brien's last words had made it very clear.

Time passed by, endlessly, and she quickly lost track. Bonnet seemed to have been gone for hours, but it was probably her imagination. He would come back, eventually. Exhausted, she ended up lying on the bed, her arms crossed under her pillow, and fell asleep.

The sun was already high in the sky when she opened her eyes and a quick glance around her was enough to know that she had slept alone all night and probably half of the morning. The pirate had not reappeared and Brianna wasn’t sure if it was good news or not. Slowly, she got out of bed, refreshed her sore face with a little water and left the cabin. She was moving slowly, carefully, hesitatingly even, as if she was now scared to do anything wrong. A door opened in the sailors' quarters and Jimmy came out. His face lit up when he saw her, despite his bruises. Brianna was so relieved to see him smile at her that she could not help but run towards him and hug him.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...", she whispered.

"It's nothing, Miss Brianna, it's nothing..." He patted her gently on the shoulder and she backed away at a more appropriate distance. "I’m glad to see you’re feeling better..."

"I feel terrible, actually..."

Jimmy laughed softly and lowered his voice. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but you're not the only one..."

Brianna frowned. Was he talking about Bonnet? _Who else…?_

"He didn’t come back last night...", she muttered.

"In his words, ‘nothing good would have happened if he had stood on board.’ He slept in town.” Jimmy smiled at her encouragingly. "I must say it was a relief to all of us. We came very close to get whipped..."

Brianna's eyes widened, devastated by the idea of being responsible for such punishment against her protectors.

"I was joking, Miss Brianna... You should eat something, it'll do you good."

With a last dazzling smile, he went back down the corridor to get on with his usual tasks and Brianna forced herself to follow his recommendations. Like a lost soul, she dragged herself to another staircase which led to the pantry. Jimmy's words were echoing through her brain, still foggy from her restless night, the alcohol she had drunk at the tavern and her assailant's terrible uppercut. _Nothing good would have happened... He let me have the last word once again..._ But this victory had a bitter taste, compared to those she had achieved so far.

When she arrived in front of the cook, her face was so miserable that the giant immediately handed her a plate filled with fresh bread – probably bought at the port in the morning –, some cheese, an apple and biscuits. She wanted to thank him but her eyes automatically started to water and Flanagan added one of his last bananas on top, before turning his back on her, slowly shaking his huge head.

She had already had difficult mornings in her life, but it was certainly one of the worsts. As fast as a snail, she went back up the stairs to the steerage to eat her…breakfast? lunch? She had no idea. On the way, she met Boyle who had a massive black eye. The young man was about to say something funny about their similar 'makeup', but the girl's miserable look dissuaded him from doing so. He just ruffled her hair with a smirk and disappeared into the corridors, leaving Brianna to wonder when everyone had become so nice to her.

 _Maybe not everyone,_ she corrected herself, noticing that Murphy, the old carpenter, as well as other old salts of his generation, were glaring at her. At least some things had not changed, it was somewhat reassuring. With a sigh, she reached the top of the main staircase and closed her eyes, feeling the cool mid-September air sweep across her bruised face. Summoning up her courage, she made her way to the front of the ship, her favorite sanctuary, and sat down to eat. She had no appetite, but forced herself to swallow the bread, cheese and cookies, keeping the fruit for later in her pocket. She was nibbling at a cookie when she heard Bonnet's quick and characteristic gait on the deck. He was with a middle-class man, to whom he seemed to be explaining something. She felt his green eyes on her for a second, before he immediately turned back to his partner. He seemed in a normal mood, smiling and acting as usual, and not like a man who had killed another in cold blood the day before.

Brianna saw him shake hands with his guest, then pat his upper arm. The man left the ship and Bonnet waited for him to disappear before turning to his prisoner again. She tried to hide her gloomy expression but her face felt like it had been replaced by one of those Greek tragedy masks. And not the smiling version. She cowered slightly as he approached, bracing herself for what was to follow.

"Your face is a mess, darlin’...", he taunted as he sat down in front of her to get a better look at her purple cheek. "Does it hurt?” He pressed his index finger on the bruise and Brianna backed out of his reach, wincing in pain. "Good. Pain is part of the experience. This is how we learn."

Torn between the genuine desire to apologize and turn her back on him, Brianna mumbled "I'm sorry", sounding way more aggressive than expected.

"Apologies are best when you believe them yourself, darlin’...", he growled, standing up immediately. He hadn't spent a night outside, trying to calm down so that she would ruin everything in a second. But much to his surprise, Brianna's hand grabbed his sleeve and when he looked back at her, he saw her face fall.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice breaking. "For your injured men, for the troubles I caused, for believing I was safe..."

"For disobeying and following me around, too?"

She shook her head and stood up, quickly drying the tears rolling on her unharmed cheek. "No, not for that. Because, believe it or not, I had a good time. Even if we crossed paths with an idiot who ruined everything. But I am not responsible."

"A good time, huh?"

The idea obviously made him too full of himself, and Brianna shrugged. "Let's say… it was interesting.” She looked down, uncomfortable. "I also apologize for... suggesting that I had any kind of influence over you. Even if I were a passenger or anything other than your property, it would have been disrespectful to you and your authority on this ship.” O’Brien’s last words had made her come up with that part. Bonnet was the captain of the _Gloriana_ and he had power of life and death over anything that could threaten the crew’s soundness. The ocean left no room for indiscipline. Grievances were settled ashore, but once on the water, nothing could disturb the sailors’ minds, already suffering from the difficult living conditions.

Her eyes were still on the ground when she felt Bonnet's index finger lift her chin up. He was smirking again and raised an eyebrow. "Be careful, darlin’. If you wise up a little too much, I might get bored..."

She stared at him in disbelief, wondering what he meant by that, but he let her chin go and took a few steps back.

"I have summoned the entire crew this evening for a vote. Our code forbids me to take important decisions without their consent. I will submit your quest to them and we will decide if we pursue it. Or not.” Brianna opened her mouth but he read into her mind and immediately added: "No, you cannot be there. A woman attending a vote...", he laughed, shaking his head, "Do you want to cause a mutiny?"

Brianna scowled, but remained silent. She had imposed enough on Bonnet and his crew. The pirate looked at her in dismay and laughed: "Come on, darlin’. You won’t even try to negotiate?"

"I had a lot of time to think about my behavior last night.” She bit her lip and nervously fiddled with her fingers. "You were gone and..."

 _Damn, I have no idea how to finish that sentence_ , she thought as she saw him squint, trying to guess what she was about to say.

"Thank you for..."

Brianna rolled her eyes, exasperated by her own incapacity to express her thoughts, but he nodded, as a shadow passed over his features.

"It was better for everyone...", he said before smiling again. "But don't worry, I'll be in your arms again tonight."

She couldn't help but let out a sarcastic laugh, almost relieved to hear him joke again. “Of course...”

"See you tonight, sweetheart!", he taunted, waving a hand as a farewell as he turned his back on her.

Brianna shook her head and watched him walk away. This night had been a nightmare but at least it had straightened a few things out between them. He had tempered his anger on his own and she had thought about her behavior. Their situation still wasn’t ideal, but it felt like a fresh start. There was now a kind of mutual trust between them, favored by the fact that she had not tried to escape and had told him she had sincerely enjoyed discovering his environment. Each one had taken a step towards the other and that reassured her somewhat about the future. Even if the crew refused to go and find Samuel Bellamy’s treasure, she hoped that if they treated themselves right, Bonnet would eventually let her go. Just in time for her to warn her parents about the fire.

~o~

At nightfall, Brianna saw the sailors gather on deck. Some looked worried, others joked in small groups, but they all knew that their captain was about to make a peculiar announcement. And judging by the looks that some of them sent her way, they had probably guessed that she was directly or indirectly involved.

She was about to find a quiet place out of sight to hear the sailors’ decision, when O'Brien showed up, smiling apologetically. "You should go down to your cabin, Miss Fraser..."

"Please, I'm far enough, they won't even see me...", she begged, but he laughed at her.

"Believe me, the Captain told me about your insane little treasure hunt... Things will go better if you're not around."

"Insane? You're not going to vote against me, are you?”

O’Brien just laughed, without giving her any answer, placed his hand in her back and gently pushed her towards the main staircase. He then waited until she had disappeared at the end of the corridor (which took quite a lot of time, as she kept turning around every two meters or so to check if he was still there), before joining the others.

Brianna closed the cabin door with a frustrated growl. She understood why she was not allowed to vote, but they couldn’t completely exclude her from the presentation of her own project... A project which aim was to make them all rich, no less! How ungrateful... What if Bonnet did not use the right words? What if he was not convincing enough? She would be left with an impossible debt to pay and nothing more to offer than her own body. _What if he claims his due tonight?,_ she thought with a shiver. _I bet he will. He’ll do everything to get his men to vote ‘no’ and then he’s going to... Oh God_ …

She scowled, thinking of all the times he had literally thrown himself on her: at the market to scare her, then when he had caressed her legs on the first night. When he had threatened to throw her overboard, and then the day before in the alley, where he had almost kissed her. Her gaze fell on the table in the center of the room. And then there was last night... She could still feel the wood under her buttocks and Bonnet's hips pressed against her inner thighs. She had really thought her time had come. But against all odds, he had left her alone.

She collapsed on the bed with a sigh, not knowing what to do until the verdict. She felt unable to draw. How about reading? Her gaze fell on the books, but the only one left on the pile was the prostitute's memoirs. Small pieces of paper had been slipped between the pages and she was pretty sure she had never seen them before. Reaching out, she grabbed the book and rolled over onto her stomach to open it. A note had been scribbled on the first page, and she recognized Bonnet’s old-fashioned handwriting from his logbook.

_As you are gathering information, I made a few suggestions… S._

Brianna frowned and flipped the pages to the first bookmark, before turning a bright shade of red. The page was a risqué engraving of the prostitute performing her duties, and a quick glance at the other bookmarks was enough to see that each one brought out a different position or practice. "I am not gathering information...", she said aloud as if Bonnet could hear her. She threw the book to the floor and buried her head in her pillow.

All these questions, that distress… Was it how her mother had felt when she had been forced into marrying Jamie, in order to escape the red coats? Giving herself to a man she barely knew? Claire had half-heartedly admitted to her that she had drowned in alcohol the day before her wedding, but Jamie and her had soon fallen desperately in love with each other, and Brianna had not perceived the violence of the initial situation. Until now. They loved each other and that was all that mattered. But now, her point of view was quite different. Even if (and it was a big ‘if’) she fell in love with the pirate, it would never excuse the violence of their early relationship. So how could her mother, so strong, so independent, get past the horror of forced marriage?

 _Love… more powerful than anything she had felt in her whole life…,_ Brianna thought. So powerful that she had travelled back the minute she had discovered that Jamie was alive. Twenty years later. But before falling in love... How could she?

Brianna rolled onto her back, remembering the story her mother had told her two years earlier. Claire and Jamie had talked a lot, learned to know each other... But according to her mother, Jamie was not difficult to love. He was a gentleman, considerate, gentle and caring. Stephen Bonnet was a lawless pirate, with questionable morals and unpredictable outbursts of anger. Not exactly Prince Charming. _But still, he chose to stay away instead of hurting me_ … Brianna had to admit that it was a pretty good point in his favor, especially since she did not expect that from him.

Her head rolled to the side, her eyes wandering on the empty bunk. With a little imagination, she could almost see Bonnet lying there and staring slyly at her as usual. One day, he would come closer, slither over her... She could almost feel the pressure of his hands around her waist, as the day before. His fingers would pull her skirt up... Or maybe he would strip her completely to admire her...

Brianna felt her cheeks heat up and she straightened up on the bed, cursing herself for having such thoughts. _Or he will just fuck me like a whore and throw me overboard_... This thought was not more reassuring than any other and she suddenly understood why her mother had got drunk before getting married. Alcohol numbed the brain. She got up and opened the chest in which she had found the whisky flask a few days earlier. Other beverages were also stored there and she took out a small bottle of port wine to drink straight from it. Much better than whiskey…

Lying on the bed, she had drunk two-thirds of the bottle and was imagining all the most dreadful scenarios of the day Bonnet would take her, when the star of her own personal thriller movie finally opened the cabin door. Brianna had absolutely no idea how much time had passed since she had started drinking. Nor if she could still stand up. Throwing her legs out of the bed, she straightened the upper part of her body and found herself upright. _Uh oh_... The cabin was spinning slightly around her. Bonnet frowned at the sight of the almost empty bottle, but Brianna did not wait for him to speak.

"So?"

Her own voice was weird and in other circumstances, she would have laughed.

Bonnet made a face. "Well, your story is a bit...”.

"They said 'no', right? Ugh... I knew it... Those idiots... they just gave up on a big pile of gold... a mountain of gold.” She threw her arms above her head to represent the said mountain, and the bottle moved dangerously in her right hand.

Bonnet remained silent, staring at her amusedly, and Brianna stood up to put the bottle on the table. "What now?”, she asked, spreading her arms before letting them fall down along her hips.

"What do you mean?”, he retorted with a smile, unbuttoning his waistcoat.

"Don't play innocent... I have no more gold to offer you." She staggered slightly on her feet but managed to restore her balance. "Do you want me to take off my clothes or will you do the honors?” She raised her chin defiantly, but Bonnet’s grin only grew wider. He took off his waistcoat and placed it on the back of one chair, before getting closer to Brianna.

"What an unexpected turn of events...", he chuckled, grabbing her by the hips and immediately starting to untie her waist-cincher. "Not that I'm complaining."

"I'm sure they said 'no' just because it was my idea...", Brianna grumbled, as the pirate removed the leather garment before taking on her skirt. He giggled again and brushed his fingers down her legs after removing her petticoats. She was now only wearing her shirt and the fresh air on her thighs brought her back to reality. Turning her frightened gaze into his, she found some strange comfort in the way his green eyes seemed to laugh at her. Bonnet then leaned towards her until their noses almost touched.

"Would you allow me, miss Fraser?"

Brianna nodded, not knowing exactly what she was allowing him to do, but she couldn't go back anyway. And the port wine had done an admirable job by breaking down some mental barriers. He leaned a little more towards her neck and began to leave a trail of kisses, slightly biting her skin every now and then. Brianna closed her eyes. His touch was quite pleasant and she had to focus on that. Bonnet's lips slid along her neck, her collarbone, then slid the fabric of her shirt to the side to uncover her shoulder.

Hesitating, Brianna raised her hands to place them on the pirate's chest and was slowly giving in to his kisses, when he went up to her ear and whispered: "Can I tell you something?"

She nodded imperceptibly and heard him laugh in the crook of her neck.

"They said 'yes'."

Brianna’s eyelids opened wide and she violently pushed Bonnet away. The pirate burst into a fit of laughter. "You… you…"

“I didn’t do anything, darlin’, you made assumptions and I just… followed your lead.”

"Oh my god... Oh my god...", Brianna moaned, looking down at her bare legs. She had never felt so stupid in her whole life. She was about to pick up her skirt, when Bonnet grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"We could still go on, you know...", he offered but her furious glare just had him laughing again.

“Why did you even tell me now?", she barked. Images of herself surrendering to his sweet kisses kept coming back to her. _I’m so fucking stupid_... "You could have lied to me and finally got what you wanted..."

"Your face... You should have seen your face...", he sighed, taking off his own clothes before dropping on his bed. "Come here..."

Brianna crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him with disdain.

"Hurry up, or I'll come get you," he ordered. "It will pass... You're just angry at yourself... am I wrong?"

Brianna did not answer and lied down, turning her back on him, determined to sulk as she was short of arguments. He sneered and leaned over her ear. "You liked it, didn’t you...", he whispered, before quickly avoiding the hand Brianna waved over her shoulder, as if to chase away a fly. He fell back laughing on his pillow, and put an arm under his head.

"You boor...", Brianna muttered without turning around.

"Drunkard..."

"Liar."

"Tease..."

“Ha!” Brianna choked and disappeared under the sheet. Even if she couldn’t see him, she knew that Bonnet was smiling widely. He blew out the candle and the cabin went dark.

~o~

_A gentle warmth spread up her body as Stephen's lips brushed her skin, sucking, biting and kissing every inch of it. She could feel his breath down her neck, then her chest, her waist, her navel and she arched her back slightly. Brianna let out a sigh, that sounded very much like a moan, as he disappeared between her thighs._

"Get up!", a voice yelled into her ear, whereas a hand slapped one of her buttocks. Hard. Brianna woke up with a start. She was lying flat on her stomach, her legs half out of the sheets and her brain seemed to have been crushed under a forty tons steamroller. Bonnet's loud voice and the bright sunrays filtering through the French windows were much too violent and she slowly opened her mouth, frowning.

"Oh my head...", she moaned, falling back onto the pillow, her hands massaging her temples.

"Were you having an interesting dream?”, Bonnet asked, somewhere in the cabin.

She tried to open an eyelid despite the bright light and saw his chest, naked and wet, as if he had just washed himself. "Can't remember...", she growled, her eyes conspicuously staring at the man's body. Images of her dream were mixing up with reality, and this was far too intense for a morning like this. She groaned again.

"Too bad... I wish I knew why you were screaming my name like that..."

"I wasn’t screaming your name!”, she barked, jumping on her feet. Bad idea: the cabin around her spinned and it couldn’t be the swell since they were still in harbor.

"I thought you didn't remember..."

He pulled on his shirt and she glared at him. _Did I actually moan in my sleep?_ She suddenly felt nauseated and put a hand on her stomach. _I’m never drinking again_...

"Why did you wake me up like that?", Brianna grumbled, finally getting up. Her messy hair was falling over her nose and she pushed it back angrily.

"O’Brien is waiting for you, he will take you to town to buy suitable clothes. It is colder in the north and you are still dressed like a Caribbean harlot…”

"Whose fault is that..." Walking like a zombie, she went to the cold water bucket and sprayed her face. She was about to refresh other parts of her anatomy when she remembered that Bonnet was still in the room and turned to stare at him. He was sitting on the table, quietly waiting for her to get naked, but sighed at the sight of her furious gaze and left the cabin.

When Brianna joined him on deck, she couldn't help but shiver. September mornings were getting colder and if they had to go to Cape Cod, she would definitely need something warmer than her large blouse.

"Aren't you coming with us?", she asked, as Bonnet handed a heavy purse to his first mate.

"I have business to attend to... and I trust him..." He patted O'Brien’s shoulder, and the first mate stretched his lips into a sneer. "Not that anyone would dare to approach the both of you, anyway", he finished, with a glance at their bruised faces.

Brianna immediately felt guilty at the memory of their mishap but she had to admit that Bonnet was right. She took a deep breath, happy to be able to go out and stretch her legs despite her hangover. They left the harbor and soon reached a large esplanade that seemed familiar to Brianna. A huge wooded park outstretched between two long avenues and she felt her heart miss a beat when she saw above the trees a large bell tower that she only knew too well. There she was... Right behind the park was Independence Hall, the cradle of the United States and the Constitution, which she had visited twice on school trips. But being in front of a historic building two centuries too late was very different from being there six years before it became a symbol.

"I'll be right back!”, she said before crossing the road without any warning, just in front of a horse-drawn carriage. The coachman insulted her loudly, while Bonnet ordered her to come back, but she ignored them both and engulfed into the park. When she finally stopped, the huge red brick building and its immaculate white bell tower revealed before her eyes. No concrete, no siren sounds, no tourists gathering in the entrance: the building was just there, surrounded by residents who had no idea of what would be happening here in a few years. She was the only one who knew. Brianna smiled at the idea, vaguely thinking that passers-by would probably think she was crazy or stupid, but she just couldn’t stop. As a true History teacher’s daughter, this exact moment was the consecration of all of her childhood.

"Do you think we have nothing better to do than running after you all day?", Bonnet’s furious voice echoed behind her, but she ignored it. "Why are you smiling like that?" He followed her gaze, but couldn’t see why she seemed so happy in front of an administrative building.

"No reason... I just wanted to admire the view..." She finally turned away from the building and met Bonnet’s suspicious look. "What?"

"Why do I always have the feeling that you know a lot more than you say?" As she laughed, he added: "First the treasures, then the opium, and now..." He didn't finish his sentence, not knowing exactly why she seemed so happy looking at a common building.

"Don't ask and I won't tell lies, Mr. Bonnet... Don’t you have ‘business to attend to’?”, she smirked.

He pursed his lips and turned to his first mate, pointing a threatening finger at his chest. "Do not let her out of your sight, not even for a second, or else..."

"Yes, captain."

Brianna rolled her eyes and wrapped her arm around O'Brien's, knowing full well that it would infuriate his captain. "There you go, this way he won't lose me into the crowd..."

As she had expected, Bonnet’s face hardened and O’Brien looked like someone whose last moment has come. But against all odds, he just gritted his teeth and left them there. The first mate let out a long sigh of relief.

"Do you want me dead, Miss Fraser?", he asked, leading her in the opposite direction. Brianna just grinned and didn't answer.

**oOoOoOoOo**

**Sooooo… what did you think of this chapter? Were you rather surprised by Bonnet’s reaction to their argument? Do you think he's sincere or is there something else on his mind? Brianna is more and more confident around him but… is that a good thing for her…?**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter and can’t wait to know your opinion ! Have a nice week and see you next Monday !**

**Xérès**


	6. Sáimhín Só

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**And here is the sixth chapter of this fiction! Brianna questioned herself a lot in the previous one and she feels like Bonnet also did. But a pirate remains a pirate... And our heroine could come down with a bump... I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think !!**

**Thanks to everyone who read and commented the previous chapter !**

**oOo**

  1. _Sáimhín Só_ (Let her go)



Brianna put her spoon back on her half-eaten meat stew plate and straightened the small pile of warm clothes – boots, gloves, scarf and a long leather coat she had found in a second-hand bazaar – on the chair next to her. She had also ordered a more appropriate dress from a seamstress, but as it would only be ready in a few hours, O’Brien and her had sat down for lunch in a tavern.

"How did he manage to convince the crew? Bonnet, I mean…”, she added unnecessarily.

O'Brien lowered his pint of ale and shrugged. "Most of the men were ready to go as soon as they heard the words 'treasure' and ‘Black Sam’... The elders were not as excited about it, as you would imagine, especially when the captain said we would have to open a grave. Twenty men voted against it… out of eighty."

"But shouldn't the vote be unanimous?", Brianna asked.

"It's better, but not necessary... The captain said they could stay here in Philadelphia and wait for us to come back. Of course they wouldn’t get a share of the treasure. They all changed their minds, even Mr. Murphy, who kept repeating that it was a mistake to listen to a woman's shenanigans..."

Brianna rolled her eyes, but made no comment.

"They agreed to stay on board to watch the ship... Anyway, we can’t possibly have eighty fellows and a woman barging in a cemetery...", he chuckled, taking another gulp of ale.

"Can I ask you something? And I would like an honest answer... I promise, I won't say anything to your captain...", she said with a smile. O'Brien nodded. "What about you? What do you _really_ think about this?"

He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. "An honest answer...", he repeated as Brianna nodded. "I think this is absolutely insane... and if my old father, who is a very pious man, knew I was embroiled in such an affair, he would kick my arse back to Ireland... But if we do find this treasure, then I think it is worth it."

Brianna smiled. "Thank you... for your honesty..."

"Your turn to be honest, if you allow me...", O’Brien said, waiting for her to accept his question with a nod. "How old are you, Miss Fraser?"

"Twenty-two. Why do you ask?"

"How is it that a young woman, as beautiful as you are, isn’t already married at such a late age?"

Brianna, who had brought her glass of water to her lips, nearly spit it all out on the table and coughed loudly. "Twenty-two years old is not a late age!", she choked behind her napkin.

"All the women I know got married before their twenties..."

"Good for them. But marriage is not exactly something I long for," she retorted sharply. The simple word "marriage" reminded her of Roger's disastrous proposal and the surrealistic quarrel that had followed. It also reminded her how her parents had torn each other apart, ignoring and despising each other for twenty years, until her father filed for divorce and killed himself in a car accident. Nope, marriage was definitely not her thing.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, miss... I was just wondering what was wrong with you, as no one asked for your hand..."

She opened her mouth wide and O'Brien grinned, which made him look very much like Bonnet. "Rest assured, Mr. O’Brien, that someone already asked for my hand..."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, and I turned him down!"

She glared at the young man and about a second or two before he opened his mouth to ask another question, she saw him look briefly at something behind her. Turning her head, she found herself facing a leather belt that she knew only too well and slowly looked up at Bonnet's face, about eighty centimeters higher.

"This is definitely a story to be told over a beer...", he said, dropping into a nearby chair, a pint already in his hand.

"What are you doing here?”, Brianna asked faintly.

Bonnet pointed at his first mate. "I told him to meet me here for lunch, didn't he tell you?"

Judging by Brianna's face, he concluded that O’Brien hadn't mentioned it and laughed, grabbing her left hand. "So, why is this pretty finger so desperately naked?"

Brianna quickly withdrew her hand. "That’s not your damn business..."

The pirate was about to retort when a shadow of sadness passed in the young woman's eyes and he instantly went back to his beer. Brianna just picked up her fork, pushing her food away with a gloomy face.

"Great… Let’s just finish our meal while glaring at each other...", O’Brien muttered in order to lighten the mood and she sneered. But Bonnet’s eyes were still on her, analyzing her, and she made sure to avoid them for the rest of the meal.

After that, Bonnet left them alone again and Brianna was able to recover her dress from the seamstress, as well as some light blouses, without feeling the pirate’s insistent gaze on her. Even now, despite the months that had passed, thinking about Roger was painful. But she remained convinced that his marriage proposal was stupid and that she had been right to turn him down. _"I was wondering what was wrong with you..."_ O’Brien had meant no harm but the wording had hurt her more than it should have, as if being single at her age implied that something was wrong with her. _They are two hundred years older than me_... _Of course they think I’m a freak_...

They went back to the _Gloriana_ at the end of the afternoon, and despite O’Brien’s repeated attempts to take her mind off her gloomy thoughts, Brianna remained silent. She knew perfectly well that Bonnet would not let go and would probably squeeze the story out of her eventually. She was almost afraid to go back on board, until she spotted two men on the galleon’s dock. She had never seen them, and although she did not know all the names of the sailors who traveled with her, she at least knew most of their faces. And those weren't part of the crew. As she got closer, she saw them embark and recognized one of them. He was one of the men from MacNamara’s meeting room. _What is he doing here?_

Her arms loaded with her new stuff, she trotted to the ship and walked to the captain, frowning. "Why is one of Mr. MacNamara's men joining us?” Her voice was a bit too harsh and the pirate looked angrily at her but did not answer. He didn’t need to, though. His face told her everything she wanted to know. "You're going to sell him a part of the treasure, aren’t you? Everything that isn’t gold will end up in his filthy robbers’ den? Am I wrong?"

Pulling her by the arm, he took her away from prying ears. But everything was clearer now and she pulled away from him.

"He called me ‘ _his new best friend’_... You made a deal, didn’t you? I give you all the treasures I know of and the both of you will just sell everything to Philadelphia’s Little _fucking_ Ireland?"

"When there is an opportunity, one needs to seize it...", Bonnet replied in a low voice.

Brianna felt her heart skip a beat as she understood what he implied. "You... you had no intention of letting me go...? We had a deal. The treasure against my freedom!”

"Another one of your hasty conclusions, darlin’."

She gave him a contemptuous look, wishing she could make him eat his _darlin’_ , which he always used to teach her a lesson.

"I’ve been such an idiot..." She let out a sharp sneer, which sounded odd due to the painful lump in her throat, and instead of triggering another pointless argument, she backed out of his reach and went down to his cabin, slamming the door behind her. She threw her new clothes to the floor and covered her face with shaking hands.

She would never see Boston again. She would never find her mother and never meet Jamie. If only this damn obituary hadn't been so damaged, she would have known the exact year of the fire that was going to kill them, but it could just as well be on January 21, 1771, as in 1779. _Worse, if it was January 21, 1770, they are already dead_. _One chance out of ten._ Not that it made a big difference in the current situation. Because even if she told Bonnet that she did not know other treasures, he would still keep her as a prisoner or kill her so that no one else would benefit from her knowledge. Brianna whined into her hands and her fingers soon wetted with tears. She could always write them a letter… But she had no address and how would she warn her parents without revealing things that would have her executed or burnt at the stake for sorcery if the letter fell into the wrong hands? She could try using a code, but her mother might not crack it in time. The situation seemed hopeless. _My kingdom for a bloody phone…_

She had no other choice but to flee. After all, she had given Bonnet enough information to find the grave on his own. She also had warm clothes, good boots, chests full of jewelry that she could sell… and the emerald around her neck as a last resort. She wasn’t as penniless as she used to be. That was Bonnet’s one and only mistake.

Grabbing the bag she had used two days earlier, she filled it with her new gloves, scarf, some jewelry from the pirate's chests, and then took off her skirt to put on men's clothes. She also put on her new leather coat, which almost reached her ankles, and pulled her hair up in a bun. The satchel on her shoulder, she took the same dangerous path along the hull and arrived safely on the dock, disappearing immediately into the crowd. She didn’t run so as not to attract attention, and headed to the city, her bag rattling against her hip. She did not know where she was going but all she had to do now was to put a maximum distance between her and the harbor.

She had reached the alleys that led to the city center when a gigantic man blocked her path. She mumbled an apology and tried to walk around him but he shifted along with her. Brianna frowned and turned around, only to find another big fellow behind her. _What the hell_ …

“Miss Fraser...", said a playful voice behind her. She turned again and saw that the first man was no longer alone. Charles MacNamara was approaching slowly, hitting the cobblestones with a finely chiseled wooden cane with silver details. "Are you going somewhere?"

Brianna saw him look down at her outfit, which left no room for doubt: she was running away and there was no denying it. "I... I wanted to run a few errands...", she said with a polite smile.

"Climbing down the hull of a ship?", he quipped with a smug smile.

"Well, one has to keep in shape..."

He let out an icy laugh and Brianna understood that his apparent kindness when they had first met was only a decoy. This was quite logical, when you thought about it... He wouldn’t have become the man he was if he went to church every Sunday. He nodded imperceptibly at the man standing behind Brianna and before she had time to run away, he took her bag and opened it, spilling all its contents on the ground. Slowly, MacNamara approached her and narrowed his eyes.

"Tell me, my dear, what do you think of Mr. Bonnet? Would you say he is...", he waved his hand, "…a bad man? Cruel, amoral... Merciless, maybe?"

"Something like that...", Brianna growled between her teeth, not quite sure where he was going with this.

As quick as lightning, MacNamara grabbed her jaw between his fingers and squeezed it, while his goons immobilized her arms from behind. Brianna let out a muffled cry.

"Let me be very clear, if you don't mind...", said the Irishman. "Stephen Bonnet, although he is indeed an excellent smuggler and by excellent I obviously mean that he is relentless, merciless and that he obeys no one but himself... but you could not know that since you are new in the business… Anyway, Stephen Bonnet, as I said, is an angel compared to me. And that’s why our partnership is so efficient, you see? Because he knows what I could do to destroy him if he ever tried to rip me off..."

His grip tightened on Brianna's already bruised jaw, and she moaned in pain. "The thing is… by running away before he could honor his deal with me, you force him to rip me off... and you force _me_ to take action against him… You must probably think: ‘whatever? I don't like him, he bought me on the market like cattle, so he can go to Hell as far as I’m concerned'... and I would understand, really I would. Even if I am firmly convinced that he’s the kind of man that gets you wet in your bed at night."  
Brianna glared at him, but he went on, smiling widely. " _However_ … I will not just destroy him... After all this time on his ship, you must have befriended a few sailors... nice young people your age... new to the profession, innocent even... Would you be able to turn your back on them, walk away from them, knowing what I will do to them… for many long hours... again and again... while repeating ceaselessly that the only person responsible for their slow and unbearable agony... is… Brianna… Fraser…?"

Brianna shivered, immediately thinking about Jimmy, O’Brien, Boyle and everyone she had sympathized with on the _Gloriana_. None of them deserved torture because of her.

"Yes...", MacNamara breathed with a smile. "I see in your eyes that you already have a few names in mind... That is why I hope, for you and for them too, my dear, that you will gather your belongings, take your pretty arse back on this damn ship and follow each and every one of Stephen Bonnet’s orders. And I don't care if he commands you to find a treasure, to pour him a drink, to clean the _Gloriana’s_ holds or to spread your filthy legs for all of his bloody crew, you will do as you’re told!”, he finished, almost screaming. "Have I made myself clear? Answer me!"

Brianna jumped and felt tears of terror roll down her cheeks. She nodded quickly and the minion's arms around her disappeared at once. MacNamara rolled his eyes at the sight of her wet cheeks and rummaged in one of his pockets to pull out a few coins.

"Now you're going to buy something, anything useful and when you come back on board, if he asks you where you were, you will tell him that you were ‘ _running errands_ ’..." He stuffed the money in her hand with an exasperated growl. "And be more convincing this time."

Brianna closed her shaky fingers over the coins and waited until she could no longer hear the sound of their boots on the cobblestones before raising her head. The street was empty again and she opened her mouth wide, trying to breathe, in vain. She felt her legs wobble and went straight to the nearest wall, sliding against the stone until she sat on the ground. Her lungs hissed when air finally entered them, and she had a series of violent hiccups before she burst into tears. She had certainly never been so scared in her entire life. The slavers, Bonnet, no one had managed to terrorize her to this point in just an instant. After about five minutes, she crawled on all fours to her bag in order to gather her stuff and got up, unsteady. What could she possibly use as an excuse for sneaking out? Bonnet wasn’t stupid, he would smell her lies from miles away. She had to find something special, like some kind of surprise.

Her gaze wandered to the shops aligned on the docks and stopped on a line of bottles in a storefront. French wines, whiskeys, rums, that shop had everything. A few minutes later, she came out and went along the docks until she reached the _Gloriana_. A few meters away from the ship, she stopped, gathering her courage. She had no choice but to move on, as MacNamara had certainly left one of his men behind to make sure she followed his orders. She couldn't take the risk of causing more deaths, especially that of innocent people like young Jimmy. She rubbed her cheeks to get rid of the last tears, took a deep breath and walked onto the dock. She casually climbed up the walkway, landing on the ship’s deck and, of course, met Bonnet’s startled and furious eyes. One second later, he strode towards her as an eagle hastening to its prey.

"Where the feck have you been? You were supposed to be in the cabin, do I really have to seal those damn windows, by Danu?"

Brianna forced a broad smile on her lips and shrugged. "I had to buy something..."

"You have been buying things all day long..."

"Yes, well I forgot something else..." She tried to walk past him to the lower deck, but he grabbed her by the waist and placed her in front of him.

"Show me."

"What?"

"What you bought, show it to me..."

She sighed and looked up at him. In other circumstances, she would have struggled a little more, but MacNamara's voice still echoed in her eardrums. _You will do as you’re told..._ Bonnet frowned when he saw something flinch in his captive's blue eyes, but before he had time to understand that something was wrong, she opened her satchel and took out a bottle.

"It's champagne...", she said. "I wanted to give it to you after we found the treasure, but now you spoiled the surprise..."

Bonnet stared at her, both amused and taken aback. "I wouldn't say that, I can't say I expected this. But you know, if you had fought a little longer, I would have let you go without knowing...", he added, putting a red lock back behind Brianna's ear.

She smiled again, but faintly, and without another word, went down to the cabin. Tears were filling up her eyes again and she just wanted to curl up under a blanket and cry her heart out. She had just put her bag and the bottle on the cabin table, when she heard Bonnet's footsteps behind her. _What now?,_ she whined internally, without turning to him.

Two arms grabbed her by the hips and Bonnet made her face him, analyzing her. After a never-ending minute, he said mechanically: "I'm sorry..."

 _Huh?_ "About what?”, Brianna asked.

"I don’t know… For letting you think that I would set you free?"

 _Oh that... So much worse has happened to me today that I didn’t even remember_ …, she thought before saying out loud: "It doesn’t matter, I should have guessed... You are a vile pirate, after all.” She shrugged and turned to walk away from him. He stood there for a moment, then pursed his lips with a groan.

"Punch me."

Brianna stared at the man in disbelief. “Excuse me?"

"Punch me."

There was a silence. "Is that a joke? Why would I punch you?"

"You are clearly mad at me and this… nice girl act, right there, it’s disturbing... At least when you scream and do stupid things, I know what to expect, but this...” He pointed a finger at her face and shook his head.

"You have spent days trying to submit me and now that I do as I’m told, it _disturbs_ you?”

“Yes, but when I give you orders, I don't really expect you to follow them, you know...", he explained, swinging his shoulders from side to side. "It's a game... between us... You know what I mean..."

"Absolutely not," she retorted coldly.

"Besides, I'm not sure I will still want you if you become as obedient as a maid..."

"Oh, and that is supposed to encourage me to resist you, right?"

"Yes, of course...", he replied, and Brianna understood that he was dead serious.

She blinked a few times, then burst into a nervous and unstoppable fit of laughter. Bonnet was so presumptuous and self-assured that it was almost ridiculous. All the tension of the past few days, especially the last hour, suddenly subsided and she felt the fuses in her brain blow one after the other. MacNamara had just scared the hell out of her into following Bonnet's orders, and Bonnet was now saying that he did not want her to obey. She took a deep breath to calm down and looked straight at the pirate. One second later, her right fist was hitting his left brow and he took a few steps back.

" _This_ is for making a deal behind my back...", she spat angrily.

He put a hand to his forehead but the punch had not cracked the brow open. He was about to ask her if she felt better, when a second punch hit his cheek.

"And _that_ is for giving me false hopes!"

In two strides, he closed the distance between them, and as she was trying to punch him for the third time, he immobilized her and threw her against the wall before pressing himself on her. "Now that’s better...", he whispered with a satisfied smile.

Brianna was trying to catch her breath, but the Irishman's green eyes had drawn her in a trance again. The last face she had had so close to hers was MacNamara's. Hard, cold and dangerous. At that moment, Bonnet only showed desire for her, a burning desire that warmed her frightened heart and dispelled the last remnants of terror that MacNamara had instilled in her. For the first time since they had met, she felt safer, despite their proximity, and wished she could just give in and completely forget her fear of the afternoon. _Jesus, MacNamara really messed with my brain to make me feel safe in Bonnet’s arms…_

She felt his lips brush against hers and her heart started to thump heavily in her chest.

"I hate to say that, but...", the pirate whispered against her lips, "I have a lot to do before we leave tomorrow. And I think that if I happen to kiss you now, I will not be able to stop..."

Brianna's eyelids fluttered, waking up from her trance, but she did not try to free herself from his grip and replied in the same tone: "Well, I would hate to keep you from fulfilling your duties..."

He grinned and took two steps back, admiring her lips, her pink cheeks and her chest rising and falling as she breathed. He wanted her so badly, but they had a deal. Until they found the grave, at least. With a groan, he left the cabin as if the devil himself was after him.

~o~

Determined to stay awake until his return, Brianna had put away her new things and had dinner, before sitting at the table to draw. She had briefly considered recapturing MacNamara’s demonic side that she had just discovered, but abandoned the idea. As she remembered how he had threatened Bonnet and his crew, she could feel her fear resurfacing. Turning her head to the side, her eyes fell on the wall against which the pirate had pressed her earlier in the evening. She wished she had watercolors to better capture the intense green of his eyes at that moment.

Looking back down at the blank paper, she put her chin in her left hand and the charcoal in her right. She started doodling randomly, without really knowing where she was going, until she ended up drawing fingers, a hand, squeezing a hip tight. No faces, just those fingers soon covered with rings, pressed against the flesh of a flat belly. Her belly. She straightened up and covered her work with another paper to do something more chaste, a landscape, for example. _Yeah, landscapes are great..._

About twenty minutes later, she rubbed her puffy eyes and decided that it wouldn't hurt to close them for a little while. Putting down her charcoal, she stood up and collapsed, fully clothed, on the bunk, her arms hugging her pillow. _Five minutes, just five minutes_...

She fell asleep immediately and she was in the same position when Bonnet found her, several hours later. Without a sound, he closed the cabin door and removed his boots, before advancing towards Brianna's drawings on the table. She opened one eye, perceiving movement in the room and tensed when she saw him rummaging among the scattered sheets on the table. _Shit_..., she swore internally, when the pirate chuckled. Brianna closed her eyelid and pretended to be asleep, praying that her red cheeks would not betray her. She would have loved to pursue their ‘conversation’ but now that he had seen her drawing, she was certainly too ashamed to look into his eyes.

Hearing him move again, she carefully opened her eyelid and saw him take off some of his clothes, as usual. Her stiff arms under the pillow were begging her to move, but she didn’t want him to know she was awake. She would move later, not now. In any case, not as long as she could still watch him surreptitiously. She closed her eye when he went to lie down on his side of the bunk and soon felt the mattress move under his weight, before he blew out a candle. The only light now came from the dying remains of one last candle at the other end of the room, on the desk, and Brianna relaxed slightly. A short respite, as she suddenly felt one of Bonnet's hands slip under her shirt, stroking the bare skin of her waist. Despite all her efforts to stay still, she jumped at the touch. As if he had been waiting for a sign indicating that she was not sleeping, he grabbed her hip to roll her onto her back as he leaned over her.

Bonnet smiled triumphantly and leaned slowly towards her face, stopping a few centimeters before her lips. He saw her hold her breath, staring at him expectantly, but he refused to make the first move. He wanted to see her yield, give in. After almost two weeks, he could feel she was about to surrender, in the sweetest of ways. As if to signal her that he would not come closer, he brushed past Brianna's lips again with a mischievous grin and felt her arching her back slightly to follow his movement.

His hands went up a little higher under her blouse, caressing her skin, and he saw in her eyes that she was hesitating.

He no longer read fear or contempt, but curiosity, desire and a slight apprehension. He gently pressed his fingers around her waist, without even denying the direct reference to her work of art. "Nice drawing...", he whispered as Brianna's lips stretched slightly.

"I knew you were going to say that."

He laughed and one of Brianna's hands rose gently to the scar on Bonnet's cheek. She had just split up with Roger a few months earlier, and what was happening now with the pirate would definitely bury their short relationship. However, something still kept her from going any further. A sentence, a few words he had said in the afternoon, when they had been as close as they were at that very moment. _If I happen to kiss you now, I will not be able to stop_...

"Tell me something about yourself!”, she said suddenly, trying to look as natural as possible.

"About myself...", he repeated, perfectly aware that she was once again delaying the inevitable. He shifted to the side and fell flat on the mattress. "What for?"

"To know you a little better..." She rolled over to face him, a bit more relaxed now that he wasn’t as dangerously close. Not that the feeling was unpleasant, but she wasn't quite ready to give him what he was waiting for. She was just starting to feel comfortable in his presence. His eyes widened, then he made a face and Brianna laughed: "Come on, it can't be that bad."

"Don't be so sure..."

As she laughed again, thinking he was exaggerating, he cast a sidelong glance at her. "Telling stories is your field of expertise, not mine."

"You must have a few stories to tell, too..."

He sighed and she felt him capitulate. "All right, what do you want to know?"

“Everything. Where are you from?"

"I was born in Sligo, Ireland..." She immediately smiled and settled more comfortably on her pillow, probably expecting a touching tale, and Bonnet grinned: "Or should I say, that’s where I was abandoned as a baby."

Brianna's smile faded. "Oh."

"I spent my first years in an orphanage, with a hundred other lads, then when I was eight, I started working as a cabin boy on merchant ships, and after that on construction sites…”

He almost chuckled when he saw her smile again, as she was surely imagining a tiny blond, green-eyed boy running around a ship. Clearly, she did not expect what was to come.

"When I was just seventeen, I was the youngest of a crew of workmen hired to build a house. I couldn’t say for why they hated me. They were a whey-faced lot, so maybe it was my manner, or the way the lasses smiled at me..." He saw her blush at his words, as if she felt directly targeted. "But I knew I was unpopular with them. They needed a sacrifice for the foundation, lest the earth should tremble and the walls collapse. But they started arguing about whether I should be the sacrifice or if Daft Joey would be a better choice."

Brianna frowned, not quite sure if he was kidding or not. Human sacrifices? It seemed totally unthinkable, even in the eighteenth century, but Ireland was a land of many superstitions and pagan beliefs... She saw him put a hand into his pocket, bringing out a small silver coin.

"One of the men suggested tossing a coin. ‘D’ye take heads or tails?’ he asked, laughing. I was too sick to speak. So he said by Georgie’s head should I live and by his arse, I should die. And he threw the shilling in the air."

Now the expression on Brianna's face was horrified and he thought with legitimate pride that she was clearly not the only one who knew how to tell stories.

"I had no strength to look. They rolled me on my face and hit me... When I came to, I found the shilling in my pocket. They were honest men, to be sure...", he ended with a hint of sarcasm.

From the way she looked at him, he assumed that she probably disagreed. Raising her hand slowly, she took the shilling between her fingers. "And you’ve kept it ever since?", she whispered.

"For luck..." He held his palm out and she gave the coin back to him. The shilling immediately disappeared back in his pocket.

"Is that how you got your scar?” He nodded and she pursed her lips as she went on: "What happened after that?"

"I never worked ashore again... and now I have my own ship, my crew... I consider myself as a quite successful man.” He chuckled at her gloomy face. "I told you, I haven’t had a very pleasant youth."

"That explains a lot, actually...", she muttered to herself.

He raised an eyebrow. "Which means?"

"Well... You never had a loving family, you were always rejected by your peers... It makes sense you became an outlaw, with little or no respect for human life... Unlike what most people think, we are not born with the ability to love and respect others, it is something we acquire, from our parents, our friends. And you never had that..."

"Make no mistake, sweetheart, I’m quite satisfied about the life I’m living," he interrupted harshly.

"I just meant that you could have been a totally different person, if you had had another start in life, just as I could have been different without two parents who loved me more than anything in the world…”, she finished, before mentally correcting: _Three parents, to be exact_ …

"Maybe, but it sounds sad when you say it... Besides, I'm sure your childhood was much less perfect than you claim it to be.” He saw Brianna clench her teeth. So there were indeed some skeletons in her closet and once again, she made _that_ face, as if she was mentally sorting out what she knew and what she would actually say. She did that every time he had her talking about herself. "Your turn," he ordered.

An enigmatic smile appeared on Brianna’s lips and she held her hand out to him. "Give me that shilling.” As he hesitated, she waved her fingers. "It will decide if I tell you about my life... or not."

He frowned in amusement and pulled out the coin to place it in her hand. "It has never failed me. You're going to lose, sweetheart," he taunted, as she straightened up on the bed.

"We’ll see. What was that poetic phrasing...? Ah yes, by Georgie’s head I shall tell you my story… and by his arse, I will remain a mystery to you," she laughed, throwing the coin in the air.

She caught it in mid-air and flipped it on the back of her other hand. "My luck has changed, apparently," Stephen mumbled as Brianna burst out laughing.

"Or maybe it took pity on me," she said, returning the coin to him. She dropped onto her pillow and turned her back on him so that he wouldn't see her broad smile. "Good night, Mr. Bonnet."

He didn't answer, but his long dramatical sigh said it all. For a few minutes, Brianna waited for him to try again, caress her, or anything else, but he did nothing. When the pirate's breathing became slow and steady, she turned back to him again, taking advantage of the last lights of the dying candle to feast on his serene and relaxed expression. Cautiously, she reached out to his face and traced the shape of the scar on his cheek, a few millimeters above the skin, without ever touching it.

Destiny really hinged on very little. A bad lottery number, and you could end up without family or anything to guide you in the right direction. Everything Brianna had always taken for granted, until her adoptive father died, Bonnet had never even seen any of it. If the roles had been reversed, could he have been a good person living an honest life, and could she have gone wrong? Probably.

But the good fortune penny had not fallen on the right side when Bonnet was born and his fate had been sealed the moment his parents had abandoned him in front of a church in Sligo. If they had decided to keep him or to give him to a family, maybe things would have been different. Then he would never have become the captain of the _Gloriana_. And she would have been bought by Mr. Pustules at the market. Or by the Spanish corsair. _Maybe fate was on our side, after all_ …, she thought, as she quickly drifted to sleep. Her eyelids finally closed and she didn’t see Bonnet's open again. He was fully awake, and stared at her until the candle passed away and plunged the cabin into darkness.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**What did you think of this chapter ?? I had a lot of fun writing MacNamara's monologue, would you have been terrified too, in Brianna’s shoes? Would you have returned to the Gloriana as well or would you have tried to continue your journey? In any case, MacNamara (involuntarily) pushed Brianna into Bonnet's arms...**

**Do not hesitate to tell me if you liked this chapter and until next Monday, I wish you a great week!**

**Xérès**


	7. Dh’èirich mi moch madainn cheòthar

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Here is chapter 7 of this fiction! After scaring the hell out of Brianna, MacNamara made her forget her escape plan... but also unwittingly brought the pirate and his captive closer together. We are only three days away from Cape Cod and the tension rises, as well as Brianna's uncertainty as to her fate...  
Hope you’ll enjoy this chapter, I had a lot of fun writing it, especially the last part (you'll know what I mean, ahah). Don't hesitate to tell me what you thought of this chapter!**

**Thank you for the Kudoz, comments and for reading this work too !**

**oOo**

  1. _Dh’èirich mi moch madainn cheòthar_ (I arose early on a misty morning)



The next day, they had left Philadelphia under a light autumn rain, going down the Delaware river to its mouth, but Brianna would not miss the departure for the world. Warmly wrapped in her coat, a scarf around her hair to protect it from humidity, she had settled at her usual spot at the front so that she could both enjoy the sailors' ballet on deck, the view of the river and its wildlife in the mist, and later on the entry into the ocean. In about three days, they would arrive in Cape Cod and hopefully leave as rich as Croesus. And then what? What other treasures could she offer Bonnet and his receiver to make sure that the latter would let them live? She would have to think about her father’s other research, but for now, she had to focus on their current quest. Looking away from the banks of the Delaware river, where a great blue heron had just taken off with a fish in its beak, she turned towards Bonnet. The captain was behind the helm, frowning with deep concentration.

His confidences of the previous night had somewhat disturbed Brianna and she could now see the pirate in a new light. If she still did not endorse some of his actions, there was a logical explanation to his behavior and it certainly wasn’t hers to judge. After all, if the beliefs of that time were correct, he would be judged by his Creator, but as a simple mortal, it wasn’t her job to do that. Especially when his attitude towards her, despite chaotic beginnings, had become much more enjoyable. Pleasant even, most of the time. She realized that she had been staring at him for far too long when he turned his green gaze towards her and smirked. She was smiling back by reflex, betrayed by her own mirror neurons, when one of MacNamara’s men entered her field of vision. Brianna's smile fell and she backed away slightly.

The presence of the receiver’s henchmen scared her beyond measure. What if they cornered her in a corridor? Just like their colleagues in Philadelphia. She felt not only watched but also in danger, probably more than with Bonnet, even in their early days. If Brianna made the slightest misstep, MacNamara would eventually know about it and other heads than hers or the captain’s would roll. Innocent heads.

"Don't worry, Miss Brianna," Jimmy said, crossing the deck in front of her, his arms full of ropes. The young man must have followed her gaze and noticed she was upset. “We often do business with them, they are not here to get us into trouble. You don't have to be afraid."

Brianna turned to him. "I know, it's just strange to see new faces after almost three weeks with the same people..."

"In that case, you just have to wait until tomorrow...", the young boy replied optimistically. "Because tomorrow, their faces will no longer be new."

Brianna smiled and nodded, as he went back to his business. Her smile faltering already, she looked at Bonnet again. He was no longer staring at her, too busy navigating on the river, and she sighed. Should she tell him about her encounter with MacNamara and how he had scared the living daylights out of her? Unfortunately, it also meant she would have to tell him about her attempted escape, and that the only reason she had returned to the ship was to save lives, and not especially his own… It was impossible, he would be furious and that would break the fragile balance between them. She had no choice but to shut up and do nothing that would suggest to the two intruders that she refused to cooperate.

One of the two henchmen, a certain Shaughnessy, was scrutinizing her and she fought the urge to run away. _Where would I go?_ Her gaze fell instinctively on Bonnet and she cursed herself for considering him as an option, but she had to face the facts: the only person who could protect her from these two guys, at least while they were at sea, was him. MacNamara could pretend that he was much crueler than the pirate, he wasn’t on the _Gloriana_ and Bonnet was still its captain. She saw Shaughnessy nudge his sidekick and nod towards Brianna. The girl got up as normally as possible, climbed the stairs to the upper deck and came to lean on the railing, a few meters away from Bonnet.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?", he taunted as she settled next to him. She shrugged and her gaze fell on the two men below. "They’re making you nervous, aren’t they?"

"Maybe... I don't know," she replied, without looking at him.

"You seemed to appreciate Charles’ company and gifts, though. Why not his men?", he grumbled.

Brianna unconsciously touched the emerald clover around her neck. "Could it be a hint of jealousy in your voice, captain?"

"And a hint of impudence in yours, Fraser?”, he retorted immediately.

Brianna placed her hand on her chest, as if she had just been hit by an invisible arrow. "So it's ‘Fraser’ now? What happened to ‘sweetheart’ or ‘darling’?"

He laughed, and there was a silence, before he drawled again: "Sweetheart?"

"Yeeees?”

"If we run aground on a sandbank, I will tell the crew that you distracted me."

"Always the lassie’s fault... Classic…", Brianna muttered, turning back to the ocean.

"All joking aside, is there any reason why you don’t trust these two?"

The young woman made a point of keeping her eyes on the open sea. "No reason at all...", she replied about ten seconds later.

"You really have to stop doing that, you know...", Bonnet sighed without taking his eyes off the river.

"Do what?"

"That..." She raised her eyebrows, inviting him to continue. "Think about two answers, choose which one you should give and keep the other for yourself."

This analysis of her inner struggles was strangely accurate and she forced herself to smile. "A woman must keep her little secrets..."

"Not mine," he retorted dryly.

Brianna's eyes widened at that extremely disturbing phrase, but chose humor as a way out. "Well, I don't know who this poor girl is, but I pity her."

They went down the Delaware for hours, sailing cautiously in the meanders of the river, the mist and the drizzle, until they reached the ocean through Cape May. Brianna had kept thinking about how they would approach the grave unnoticed and a had finally developed a draft plan. After several hours, she was in dire need of a distraction but didn't feel like drawing. She terribly missed her father's Cadillac and its brand new car radio. She could literally kill for some music. The Beatles, Donovan, or Elvis... The mere idea of hearing a guitar or drums filled her with nostalgia.

Bonnet had left the helm to O’Brien in order to inspect his ship as usual and Brianna had isolated herself at the bow. Closing her eyes, she tried to mentally play the first notes of _San Francisco_ , by Scott McKenzie, and smiled when her imagination began to do its job. She could almost hear the crackling sound of the record on Frank's turntable in their Boston living room.

" _If you're going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair. If you’re going to San Francisco, you’re gonna meet some gentle people there_ … ” Her fingers beat the rhythm slowly against the railing and she felt her head bobbing from side to side. " _For those who come to San Francisco, summertime will be a love-in there. In the streets of San Francisco, gentle people with flowers in their hair…_ ”

"I don't know where this San Francisco is, but it sounds pleasant..."

Bonnet's voice was so close that she almost jumped and opened her eyes. She hadn't heard him coming nor leaning against the railing next to her. "It's in California," she replied before biting her lower lip. _Shit… the city has only been founded in 1776..._ She was six years early.

"Ah, the Spanish colonies... I have never sailed to the Pacific, the Atlantic ocean is more than enough for me."

This time, his ignorance of the West Coast had saved her, but she had to be careful to avoid this kind of historic jumble if she did not want to burn at the stake one of these days.

She giggled. "The Pacific doesn't know what it is missing..."

"I know... but I can't be everywhere...", he said, as if his presence on the seas was a blessing. "Maybe someday. When we have enough gold to buy an entire archipelago."

"If all goes well, this day should not be very far away..." She saw his eyes narrow slightly at the start of her sentence and added quickly: "I could count on the fingers of one hand the times my father made a mistake in his life. If he thought the treasure was in this grave, then it will be there. I trust him."

"I do hope so. For you... and for me too," he added darkly.

Brianna held her breath, convinced that he was talking about the consequences it would have on his arrangement with MacNamara if they did not find the treasure. Thus, the receiver had told the truth: Bonnet had reason to worry if he did not honor their deal. A shiver ran down her spine when she realized that she had never seen the pirate worry about anything before. Whatever he did, he always seemed to control every detail of his existence, whether on his ship, with his crew, or the elements. He set sail with a smile on his face, as if he knew he could overcome any pitfall the sea gods sent his way. On land, he slithered among the most dangerous representatives of the human race with an incredible ease. But at that moment, when he had said those words, his smile was gone.

"We'll find it." Brianna smiled. "I'm thinking about a plan."

“That’s good news... because from where I stand, you were just singing."

"Those two activities are not mutually exclusive..."

He sneered as he walked away and shrugged. "I agree, but maybe it would stop raining if you were just _thinking_..."

~o~

Nibbling on a biscuit she had extorted from Flanagan, Brianna dipped the tip of a quill in ink and began to write down on a blank page everything she could remember about the lost treasures of history. After Bonnet left her alone on deck, she couldn’t stop thinking about that brief worried look that had passed in his emerald eyes. And as they would soon reach Cape Cod, she had decided to get to work right now, compiling all her memories to keep only the best leads.

Moreover, once the treasure in his holds, Bonnet would know that he could trust her knowledge and a detailed list might be enough for him after that. She could then convince him to let her go.

She was writing a paragraph on Isla del Coco, an island in the Pacific off the coast of Costa Rica, known for its dozens of treasures buried by pirates already overloaded with loot, including that of the famous Edward Davis, when Bonnet entered his cabin. Outside, the sun was already setting on the coast, which they closely followed to avoid wasting time until Cape Cod. She gave him a brief look before going back to her task.

"What are you doing?”, he asked, leaning over her shoulder.

"A list. For you…"

He frowned as he read some famous names. "What is the point of having a list when I have _you_?"

Brianna tried to stay focused but gritted her teeth. "I really hope you will change your mind..."

"Not a chance, darlin’."

She slammed the quill on the desk, ink spraying onto the paper and stood up abruptly, her fists clenched. "In that case, you better kill me right now. Because if I have nothing to hope for, I will have nothing to lose either. And believe me when I say I can – and I will – make your life a living hell."

Bonnet's eyes seemed to pop out of their sockets. His prisoner seemed to have forgotten a few simple rules lately. And even if he had told her he occasionally enjoyed a little confrontation, there were limits. "Calm down, darlin’. And that's an order", he growled, leaning over her.

“I _have_ to leave, my parents' lives depend on it.” Determination and anger made her eyes sparkle, but it wasn't that sparkle that ignited the fire. With a quick gesture, Bonnet's hand pressed against her chest and he pushed her against the wall, as she let out a muffled cry.

"You told me your father was dead... You wouldn't be stupid enough to lie to me, would you?"

"My _adoptive_ father...", she clarified in a strangled voice, her emerald clover painfully pressed against her flesh. "The man who raised me is not of my blood. If I have come all this way, it is to know my real father. My mother thought he was dead until she heard about him two years ago..." She felt the pressure on her windpipe loosen. "Please, it is crucial that I find them before January 21st. It is a matter of life and death."

Bonnet's hand left her throat, gently caressing the top of her rib cage, then sliding over her breasts and Brianna stopped breathing. He could not stop touching her these days and she shivered more and more every time he did. Was it because she had been locked up with him for three weeks, or was she developing some sort of Stockholm syndrome? She didn't know, but there was one thing she knew for sure: two weeks ago his presence lit up all the warning signals in her brain, but lately she could feel her heart race as soon as he invaded her personal space. And this time was no exception, even after the brutality with which he had pushed her against the wall. If her feelings about him had initially been contradictory, halfway between fear and fascination, the balance was now definitely tipping in favor of the second option. And she only feared she wouldn't be able to turn the tide. Brianna saw the pirate's face come closer to hers and shivered as he narrowed his eyes, almost threateningly.

"Maybe I will lose all interest in you and let you go, once you’ve offered yourself to me...", he breathed in her neck. She closed her eyes, unable to think of anything but his warm hand over her left breast. She was almost certain that even the pirate could feel her heart thumping loudly against his palm. There was no way he would believe her if she turned him down again. Brianna was well aware that he was simply trying to manipulate her into giving in, seducing her with the promise of freedom in exchange for her total submission. But as every time they provoked each other, her audacity got the better of her, and she couldn't help but defy him a little more.

"Or maybe it will just be the opposite..." She took a deep breath, trying to calm down and looked up. But doing so, she inadvertently touched the pirate's nose with her own and the air became electric.

"There is only one way to find out..."

The next moment, their lips crushed against each other and Brianna would have been unable to say who had initiated the kiss. Neither of them had closed their eyes, and they stared at each other with a mix of surprise and desire, as if they barely realized that after all this time, it was actually happening. Bonnet's mouth was playing with hers, biting her lips, caressing the tip of her tongue, never taking his eyes off her. With mesmerizing, hypnotic green irises.

Brianna felt his hands go down to her skirt and roll it up, sliding behind her thighs, lifting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist, as she tied her hands behind his neck. Her body temperature seemed to raise by a hundred degrees and she was almost surprised not to feel her blood boiling in her veins. The pirate then left her mouth for her neck, and she closed her eyelids, enjoying the same sweet feeling she had discovered a few days earlier, when she had almost given herself to him under the influence of alcohol. With her back pressed against the wall and her legs firmly wedged around Bonnet's hips, Brianna completely surrendered to the heat that invaded her whole body. The pirate's hands were back on her chest, and he pulled somewhat violently on her blouse to discover one of her breasts.

She sighed loudly when he lifted her a little more to kiss and nibble on the bare skin. When he slid her back to his level, he pressed himself between her thighs, leaning towards her ear.

"I don’t want to hear you talk about that list ever again...", he whispered, as a warning.

Brianna stared at him, narrowing her eyes. If he thought he could win this battle just because she had moaned a couple of times, he was wrong. "I will keep writing it, though."

A fire ignited his pupils and he suddenly released the young woman’s legs. Before she could make a move, he turned her over so she would face the cabin wall. His hands still under her skirt, he placed one of them right against the most intimate part of her body to caress her clit. "Very well, you will no longer have paper, ink, or quills..."

Bonnet’s fingers were so close to this yet unexplored area that Brianna couldn’t help but feel excited. But she would not let go. "I will carve it on the damn walls if need be..."

He chuckled, as his hand sped up and his mouth covered her shoulders with kisses. "Not if I tie you up."

Brianna's breathing started to become erratic and she put her burning forehead against the wooden wall. "Then I'll scream, until someone takes notes..."

"I'll cut your tongue..."

It was getting more and more difficult to answer, as her brain was too focused on the pleasure that rose from her lower abdomen. "You would miss it..."

"You’re right, I should definitely make you scream something else, in that case..."

Brianna pressed her hands against the wall, unable to think of anything else than what the pirate was doing to her. Violent, indecent pleasure. Roger would never have perverted her like this, he who had already panicked when she barely took off her shirt. Bonnet had wanted her since the very first day, before he even knew her. In a not so subtle way, of course, sometimes even toxic. But at that moment, even if she could seem at his mercy from an external point of view, Brianna became aware of the power she had over him. Despite his palpable impatience from day one, their first physical interaction focused on her pleasure, not his.

"Then I would win anyway, wouldn’t I...", she gasped, an insane smile floating on her lips.

In a second, Bonnet's fingers had left her, abruptly interrupting the wave of pleasure that had started to rise inside of her, and he turned her around again. She let out a hiccup of surprise, tinged with disappointment, and saw the Irishman’s green eyes shine as he stared at her. Her cheeks were on fire and her eyes feverish, something he would never grow tired of admiring. He pulled her against him, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her again for a long time, without making the slightest gesture towards Brianna's crotch. She could have screamed in frustration. When he agreed to release her lips again, he pressed his forehead against hers.

"You won't win anything at all tonight..."

And with a sneer, he let her go and headed for the exit, tearing up the list into useless confetti.

~o~

Almost two days had passed since the "incident" and Brianna was going round in circles like a caged animal. A first night had fallen, then a second, and they were supposed to arrive in Cape Cod at dawn, but Bonnet still had not put a single toe in his cabin. She had seen him several times during the day, where he only smirked at her from afar, but he made a point of disappearing long enough afterwards for her to get tired and go back to her books or her drawings. Or rather tried to. Because to be honest, too many thoughts were on her mind. Ten days earlier, she would have given everything to have Bonnet avoid her like the plague, and now she regretted his taunts, his way of imprisoning her against his body and their exciting verbal jousts. _That’s exactly why he’s running away from me, he’s creating a psychological dependence, a need…,_ she thought, narrowing her eyes. _He believes that when he will speak to me again, I will jump on him like a lioness in heat_... Brianna sneered internally as if the idea was stupid. But a few hours after thinking it, tossing and turning in her bed, she admitted her defeat. After spending eighteen days and seventeen nights literally glued to him, his sudden and complete absence was torture. Especially after their sensual altercation. For the first time, she was alone and able to think quietly, but there was only one thing in her mind: Stephen Bonnet. Exasperating.

Wrapping her shoulders in a blanket to protect herself from the cool night, she took a lantern and went to the upper deck. Bonnet was alone behind the helm and the few sailors on watch were scattered all over the ship, scanning the horizon. He didn't give her a single look when she appeared at the top of the stairs, not even when she leaned against the railing to his left. Only a slight smile indicated that he had noticed her presence. _That smug little bastard_ …

"Where's O’Brien?", Brianna asked innocently. _Two days without speaking to him and the first thing I say is another man’s name. Take that, Mr. Bonnet_...

The pirate’s smile widened, as if he was seeing right through it. "He is resting... These waters are not safe, I took over."

"Obviously."

The annoyance was almost palpable in the young woman's voice and he couldn't help but chuckle. "You should go back down, it might take a while. I might not even go to sleep at all tonight...”

Brianna smiled in turn and shrugged. "I'm not really sleepy, I was walking around to kill time... Well, if you are not available, I will go see Jimmy, we will probably find something to do. Maybe we will play cards..."

"A healthy use of leisure time, for sure...", approved the captain, imperturbable.

Brianna nodded with a broad smile. "Oh, I could teach them how to play strip poker!", she exclaimed, raising a finger in the air.

"Play what?"

"You know about poker, right?”, she asked as he shook his head. The game probably wasn’t known by that name yet. "Well, it is a card game, except that instead of losing his bet, the loser... takes off a garment.” Bonnet's eyes had left the horizon so quickly that she worried he might have broken his optic nerve. She left the railing and casually headed for the stairs. "My father's students loved to play that game after class..."

She had hardly set foot on the first step when a hand grabbed her arm to pull her back. Bonnet slid her between him and the helm, trapping her on both sides with his arms.

Brianna grinned triumphantly. "I'm going to try not to be offended by your little confidence in my gaming skills... Who said I was going to lose?”

"No one. On the other hand, know that all of my men, including yours truly, do cheat on cards. A lot."

She opened her mouth, as if to let out an insightful "aaah", but added nothing. Silence fell between them and Brianna could savor the exhilarating feeling of her victory, as well as that of being at the helm of an actual galleon, in the middle of the night, facing the ocean with the wind in her hair.

"I think I understand...", she suddenly whispered. "Why you love sailing so much. You’re free as a bird. Much more than the people toiling in the fields or killing themselves on the job for a loaf of bread…”

"I'm not as free as you think," he mumbled behind her and she knew immediately what he was referring to.

"Still more than most people..." She raised her hands to the wheel’s handles. "May I?"

"Not even in your wildest dreams, Fraser..."

Brianna pouted and dropped her arms before tightening the blanket around her. But a smile came quickly back on her lips when she felt the pirate's chest gently rest against her back.

~o~

The sky was barely pink when they finally saw Cape Cod appear before them in the North. The cape formed a hook, the tip of which went up towards Boston and Brianna felt her heart tighten at the idea of being so close to home, even if she would not be living there for two hundred years. The Atlantic side of the cape was nothing but a string of long white sand beaches, which stretched for miles, beyond which you could only see a dark mass of trees.

"Where is the cemetery?”, Bonnet asked, squinting at the land.

"North of Truro, on the narrowest part of the cape before it curves west. There is a harbor, but you can only access it from the inside of the bay. The other solution would be to stay on this side of the land..."

"But we would have to anchor offshore and take a raft to reach the coast," the pirate finished.

"It would be more discreet, most of the dwellings are concentrated on the inside of the bay, the Atlantic side is still wild..." He sent her a questioning look and she added: "My father and I used to go camping in these woods... He loved Cape Cod and its mysteries, for an obvious reason."

Bonnet smirked but he didn't comment on that. “We will always be less suspicious if we moor in the harbor. A ship that stays away makes people nervous..."

Brianna nodded and went back down to the cabin to freshen up a bit. If they were to go find the location of the mausoleum during the day, they had to look like respectable people coming to flower the grave of a loved one, not like looters. She left her loose skirts and blouse to spruce herself up and put on the dress she had bought in Philadelphia. It was pale green and embroidered with golden floral patterns, the wide square neck revealing the upper part of her breasts, held in place by a stiff corset. After so many weeks wearing rags or loose coats, at best a waist-cincher, this was extremely unpleasant. She threw a white scarf over her shoulders and tied her hair with the butterfly, which she had definitely adopted.

When she came back up, she met Jimmy’s eyes. The boy instantly turned red.

O’Brien, who was quietly smoking a cigar on deck, let out a sneer. "Someone will definitely have to make an effort on his own outfit, now."

Bonnet turned around and his face was absolutely priceless.

"You look like a real lady, Miss Brianna," Jimmy said enthusiastically as she bowed to thank him for his kind words. "All you need now is a white sunshade and a little dog on a leash..."

O'Brien sneered again and nudged the cabin boy as he raised his cigar towards their captain. "I think she already has the little dog..." Jimmy was going to laugh, but Bonnet’s murderous look immediately stopped him. The first mate, on the other hand, brought his cigar to his mouth with a loud chuckle.

"Mr. O'Brien is right, if we don't want to draw attention in Truro, we have to look like honest people...", Brianna added, frowning at Bonnet's outfit – his long and shabby leather jacket, his waistcoat and his belt holding the knife and the flintlock pistol that never left him, and also his tricorn.

"If I may, captain," intervened Doherty, the quartermaster, "it seems to me that we have some decent clothes in stock, would you like me to put them in your cabin?"

Bonnet glared at the poor inventory manager, while O'Brien and a few other sailors struggled to hold back their laughter. But when the captain turned to them, they all ran away as fast as they had come. He nodded and Doherty bowed briefly before heading for the holds. And after a brief look towards O’Brien’s bantering smile, Bonnet disappeared inside the ship as well.

When he came back half an hour later, a small crowd of twenty sailors or so, who had certainly heard of the imminent transformation of their captain into a gentleman, had formed on the deck. He stopped dead at the top of the stairs and gritted his teeth at their amused faces.

"Go back to your posts, that's an order," he growled, but strangely enough, the sailors did not obey as quickly as usual. It was definitely the outfit. The boatswain had to scream and threaten the sailors before the small group dispersed. On the upper deck, Brianna, who was leaning on the railing next to Jimmy and O'Brien, placed a hand over her mouth. The first mate laughed so hard that he had to catch his cigar in mid-air, as it had fallen from his lips.

The pirate's new outfit was not exactly ridiculous in itself. He had swapped his loose, worn waistcoat for a new one, made of brown leather, over which he had put on a red jacket. He could have passed off as a normal man, elegant even, if he had not kept his tricorn and his swaying gruff gait.

"What?”, he spat, reaching the upper deck.

"Polite men don't say ‘what’, they say ‘I beg your pardon?’," O’Brien said, with a finger in the air. It was too much for Brianna, who let out a high-pitched laugh, and she went straight to Bonnet in order to take off his tricorn. The pirate nervously straightened his blonde ponytail back and Brianna transferred the tricorn on O'Brien's head, who seemed delighted with this unexpected promotion.

"No hat. Or you might as well walk around with a wooden leg and a parrot on your shoulder...", she laughed.

"You have to change the way you walk too...", added Boyle, who had joined his friend O’Brien so as not to miss the show. “Gentlemen stand upright and walk slowly.” Matching words with action, he took a few steps in a straight line, his chin proudly raised and the others giggled.

Doherty, who had followed him, arms loaded with other clothes, made a face. He was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of dressing his captain up with an outfit that made him lose almost all of his credibility. "May I suggest a scarf around your neck, captain? It... it will soften your features..."

These last words triggered a series of uncontrollable chuckles from O’Brien, but Bonnet ignored him as best as he could to tie the fashionable white scarf inside his collar.

"He will make us pay for that," Jimmy muttered, shaking his head. "One day... he will..."

When they arrived, fishermen and merchants were already busy in the harbor, but all these people stopped dead in their tracks when the _Gloriana_ approached. The galleon was undoubtedly the largest ship around.

"So much for discretion...", Brianna muttered, watching the crowd from the railing.  
Once the walkway was installed, the young woman was the first to set foot on the land and sighed. She vaguely recognized the place. The architecture had changed somewhat but the design of the bank was the same and that reassured her. The cemetery they were looking for was about four and a half miles north, but they would first have to bypass the swamps around the harbor for about one mile to reach Truro. There had to be a place on the harbor where they could find horses…

"What now?”, Bonnet's voice said behind her.

She turned her head towards him, once again glancing at his unusual outfit with a sneer. "Now we find the location of the grave, we come up with a plan and we wait for the night..."

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

**What did you think of this chapter? The little power play between Brianna and Stephen is escalating. They both want to have the upper hand over the other and even though Brianna is aware of the pirate’s unhealthy and manipulative side, she can't help but tickle him... I hope you liked this chapter, the next will be purely dedicated to the "adventure" part of the plot!**

**Until then, I can't wait to read your comments and I wish you a good week! See you next Monday!**

**Xérès**


	8. Taibhsí nó Laochra

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Happy Monday everyone with the 8th chapter of this fiction! In the previous one, Brianna has slightly yielded to her attraction for Bonnet after another confrontation with the pirate. After a remarkable arrival in Cape Cod, all they have to do is find the cemetery... Or so they think… This chapter focuses on the adventure part of the story, I hope you enjoy it!**

**oOo**

  1. _Taibhsí nó Laochra_   
(Heroes or ghosts)



Brianna was striding along the dock, until she remembered to pay attention to her manners, which frankly left much to be desired since she no longer had any contact with good society. She knew she was drawing the inhabitants’ attention with her brand new dress, getting off an imposing galleon, but she did her best to ignore them. Observing the surroundings, she soon found what she was looking for. A few saddled horses were tied to a fence near a wooden house, quietly grazing in a haystack or drinking water from a trough.

Bonnet caught up with her quickly, while Brianna approached the horses to pet one of them.

"Do you need a mount, Miss?”, a young man asked from the porch. Brianna turned to him with a smile and nodded.

"Two, actually. Until tomorrow morning at the latest..."

"Sure," the young man replied, approaching Brianna and completely ignoring Bonnet. "The main road that goes along the cape from the North to the South is lined with many waterholes, which makes it easy for the horses to drink and rest for a while. I could show you some nice places, if you wish… My brother can take care of our business while I’m gone…”

"Thank you, we'll fend for ourselves," Bonnet said in such a threatening tone that the boy jumped and gave him a frightened look.

"As you wish, sir... It… It will cost you ten pounds...", the boy stammered, and Bonnet placed ten pounds in his hand. "Erm... per horse..." The pirate’s eyes turned so dark and icy that the boy let out a nervous laugh. "My mistake. You’re right, it is ten pounds for both horses... I... I'm going to get a sidesaddle, so that your lady can ride appropriately..."

"It won't be necessary!", Brianna said, already untying and climbing on the horse she was petting earlier, despite her bulky dress. Clicking her tongue against her palate, she dragged her horse away from the building.

She hadn't been on a horse since Frank’s death, but just like riding a bike, sensations came back to her as clearly as if she had ridden the day before. The road was lined on both sides with dense vegetation and you couldn't see anything beyond. From time to time, a house or a farm appeared along the way, quickly swallowed by the trees and bushes that had not dropped their leaves yet. She soon heard the pounding of another horse's hooves behind her back and realized without turning around that Bonnet was catching up with her.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that he seemed much less comfortable on a horse than aboard his ship. _Watch and learn_ …, Brianna laughed internally before digging her heels in the animal's sides to go faster. The horse accelerated instantly and she leaned forward, soon outdistancing her pursuer. She could perfectly picture him scowling at that very moment.

When she arrived in Truro, she waited for him at the main crossroad with an innocent smile, then turned north. Truro’s old cemetery was 2.6 miles up the road to Provincetown, the village at the end of the cape. And the least you could say was that the place was busy. Brianna dismounted and tied her horse to a fence, glancing worriedly towards the cemetery, where at least three hundred people were scattered in small groups all over the place. Bonnet had seen them too and they exchanged a look.

Going down the cobbled path that led to the cemetery, Brianna watched the weeping crowds of men and women standing around freshly dug graves. There were rich citizens as well as poor peasants, all united by the one and only thing in the world that did not care much about social status: Death. Heart-wrenching cries and sobs ripped through the air and Brianna shivered. Without even realizing it, she put her arm around Bonnet’s as a coffin, that should not have been more than three feet long, was buried under the eyes of a grieving mother, kneeling in the mud. Not far from there, she noticed a gravedigger, who was patiently waiting, his chin resting on the handle of his shovel.

"Excuse me...", Brianna asked, with a bad feeling. "Why are there so many people today?"

The gravedigger gave her a surprised look. "Don't you know? The flu has spread in all of Massachusetts… We were spared on the Cape until last week, but now…”, he shrugged, as Brianna stiffened and stepped away from him. "I’ve heard it is quite bad this season… People are dying like flies...", he finished darkly.

"Thank you…"

She hurriedly dragged Bonnet away, weaving in and out of the graves to avoid visitors. "If we stay away from people, we won’t get sick..."

" _We_ won't, but my men will probably spend the day in a tavern or with women...", Bonnet grumbled.

“Let’s find this grave and go back to warn them..."

He nodded and she started searching the aisles for a huge mausoleum matching Frank’s description. The cemetery was gigantic, but the oldest graves were in the north square, and they moved away from the grieving families with some relief. Created at the beginning of the century, this part of the cemetery had slowly returned to a more natural state. Large trees shaded the graves, which were of all sizes, shapes and materials. A row of imposing tombs could be seen a little further on and Brianna instinctively looked for a dome. There were three.

Releasing Bonnet's arm, she stopped in front of the first one, which belonged to some Abernathy family, then walked towards the second, without more success.

"What was the little girl’s name?”, Bonnet asked in front of the third.

"Joannah..." Brianna trotted up to him and watched the inscription on the last mausoleum. "J.H.B. 1717”, she read, going around the mausoleum to find the full name of the deceased, but there was no such thing. "Joannah Hallet Bellamy. It can only be her... but I understand why no one bothered to come here after all this time. With only three letters for an epitaph and transferred two years after her death, she must have been completely forgotten..."

After taking a brief look around to make sure no one was watching, Bonnet grabbed the wrought iron door handle and pulled it. "It’s locked…"

"What an incredible sense of observation... Really, you never cease to amaze me," Brianna quipped, crossing her arms over her chest, before analyzing the structure: "We will come back at nightfall with something to open it up…” She turned towards the road that ran past the cemetery, less than a hundred yards away. A few houses and businesses were there, but the surroundings seemed rather deserted. "We will need several men to stand guard, others to dig or move anything that needs to be... The most difficult part will be not to make too much noise so as not to alert the population.” She pointed to a building that was higher than the others and clearly visible from their position. "We’ll need one man here, to watch the main road, and another there...", she pointed to a tree with branches low enough to climb, "watching the secondary road."

“Lookouts will not be difficult to convince. You’ll have a harder time finding men to get inside the grave…"

Brianna rolled her eyes. "Just do what you always do… Threaten to have them quartered or thrown to the sharks, or whatever you like..." She crouched down before the door lock and had a moment's hesitation when she saw the rust had not eaten the mechanism. After almost sixty years, exposed to salty air, it should have been rusty... Unless someone was still taking care of the place. She would have to find something to pick the lock on the ship. With one hand, she took the butterfly out of her hair and inserted the rod into the top of the lock. The size was about right, it would give her a good idea of what to look for. That and another thinner rod to use as a picklock.

She put the jewel back in her hair, catching Bonnet's puzzled expression. "What?"

"Don’t tell me you know how to pick locks...", he said slowly.

" Yes, I do. Why?"

"You never picked those in the cabin... or the balcony..."

"Believe me I tried, but I couldn’t find anything small enough in your crates," she retorted. He seemed quite angry for a moment and Brianna smiled: "You have no idea all the things my father taught me during his all-too-short life."

"I’d say, he raised you like a boy... Pirate stories, horse-riding, bad manners and now this..."

"Bad ma-...", she choked and shook her head, laughing. "You will regret your words when you’re covered in gold _thanks to me_..." She turned away from the grave and headed for the road. "Let's go there, I want to see if we can get here without going through the main entrance..."

"Let’s go there… _please_...?", he corrected with a smile, following her anyway.

~o~

The night was falling on Cape Cod and Brianna was getting ready in the cabin. A group of sailors, according to their instructions, had left on foot two hours earlier to station themselves at strategic locations and monitor the comings and goings of the inhabitants. She had swapped her dress for pants, a blouse and her waist-cincher, before putting her long leather coat on. With a pair of high leather boots Doherty had found in the holds, she had to admit she would have made a splash at any Hallowe'en party in college. She wondered if she would dare to ask Bonnet for his tricorn in order to perfect her look, but he would certainly refuse. _I won't ask, then_... She slipped in one of her pockets the picklocks she had unearthed in the holds and went back upstairs.

Bonnet had also put his everyday outfit and hat back on. He was turning his back on her, as he instructed his sailors not to leave the ship in their absence or let anyone (especially harlots) on board because of the epidemic. Two sailors exchanged worried looks, without saying a word, but he didn't notice them. Brianna waited until he finished his speech to come up behind him, grab his tricorn, transfer it to her own head and run towards the dock where Jimmy, Boyle and a few other sailors were waiting.

Boyle sneered when he saw Brianna’s outfit, while Jimmy cast a worried look at the tricorn on her head. His concern soon became terror when the hat’s owner appeared behind her with a murderous look. The young woman stiffened, expecting him to take his property back and perhaps pull her ear on the way, but _nothing_ happened.

"The horses are ready," Jimmy announced. "I loaded a pickaxe on each of them, as well as ropes, and everything you asked for, Miss Brianna."

"By Danu, who gives the orders here?", Bonnet asked harshly, glaring at poor Jimmy.

"The one wearing the hat, I’d say...", Boyle said with a shrug, as the other sailors laughed silently.

Brianna gave him a complicit smile and walked over to her horse, imitated by the other members of their small team who had also rented horses for the occasion. A few minutes later, they were all riding up the road to the village, after which they would take two different routes to the cemetery. The rallying point was a grove, a little higher on the road that ran along the northern part of the cemetery. Galloping alongside the captain, Brianna couldn't help but notice his recurring glances in her direction and thought that she must look great on her horse, dressed like a cowgirl, and especially with the tricorn he had not taken back.

It was pitch dark when they reached the cemetery. The few buildings around were plunged into darkness and only a few candles were shining through a window here and there. The lookouts who had left earlier were already in place and had hidden their lanterns under blankets, waiting to send the signal. Brianna and the others left their horses in the woods and entered the cemetery, under the moonlight. When they got to the mausoleum, Brianna crouched down in front of the door and pulled her picklocks out of her pocket, while Boyle and the others waited with their pickaxes.  
She was about to insert the first rod into the lock, when a muffled cry rose among the sailors. A fleeting blue and orange flame had rose up from the ground a hundred yards away, burning for a few seconds before disappearing into thin air.

"I think I saw something come out of a grave...", said the scared sailor, immediately crossing himself.

"It's nothing...", Brianna sighed, but the man was already moving back to the road. She got up, exasperated. "Let’s make a deal. I'll explain to you what you saw while I’m opening this damn door, and after that, you decide if you still want to leave..."

On her right, Jimmy was shivering as well, but his soft spot for the young woman caused him to trust her more than his colleague did. "What was it, Miss Brianna?"

Brianna fell back on her knees and introduced the first picklock. "When the dead start to rot in the ground, they emit gases, just as the living do..." She tensioned the first mechanism, then inserted the second picklock, that was supposed to activate the lock’s pins. “Plants also produce their own gases when they rot. And when all these gases go up through the ground and reach the surface, they react with air..." She winced, advancing the second picklock over the various pins. "And that reaction..." The lock clicked open and the door parted, as Brianna smiled widely in the dark. "...causes a flame. I simplified the whole process, of course but roughly speaking, that's all it was. Gases."

The sailors looked at each other, puzzled, before turning to their captain, waiting for his approval or an order to immediately neutralize this woman and her strange ideas.

"Her father was a teacher in Harvard...", Bonnet replied. He didn't really care if the flame was an angry spirit or a natural phenomenon. The explanation seemed sufficient, however, as none of the sailors ran away and Brianna opened the door carefully, gritting her teeth when it creaked loudly. Apparently, the hinges had not been as well maintained as the lock. Another mystery. The young woman entered the mausoleum, in the center of which was placed a huge marble slab. In the back stood an altar, with a crucified Christ and empty vases. The flowers were long gone. Jimmy entered in turn with an old flint lighter and a lantern to bring light into the building. The young man suppressed a surprised exclamation when the candlelight seemed to reflect endlessly inside the dome above their heads. The interior of the dome seemed to be entirely covered with gold and around them on the walls, old tapestries also embroidered with gold, appeared before their eyes.

Brianna walked around the slab and went to inspect the altar, but there was nothing interesting. "We have to lift the slab...", she whispered, and the sailor, who had already been scared by the [will-o'-the-wisp](https://www.linguee.fr/anglais-francais/traduction/will-o%27-the-wisp.html), winced.

"I'm staying here in case the lookouts...", he didn’t even finish his sentence and took a few steps back. Boyle was the first to get in, followed by the others and Bonnet. The pickaxes passed from hand to hand, and Jimmy threw the ropes to Brianna. Each man hammered the pointy end of his tool in one side of the slab to pry it open, while Brianna lit the grave with the lantern. The slab was raising slightly, when an inscription in gold letters on the side caught her attention. She narrowed her eyes, leaning forward for a better view. She hardly had time to read " _Maria Hallet, April 12, 1701 - August 30, 1770_ " when the slab shifted to the side and the most terrible stench filled the mausoleum. Brianna buried her face in her elbow and rushed out, along with the others who were trying to muffle their cough and calm the spasms of their stomachs.

"Jesus, Mary, Joseph...", Jimmy repeated faintly. "Jesus, Mary, Joseph..."

"I thought the baby died in 1717!”, Bonnet scolded as he bent over, his hands on his knees.

"The baby did, but according to the dates on that slab, her old mother joined her last month...", Brianna managed to say while breathing through her mouth. The smell of decay seemed to have lined her nostrils and she thought she would never be able to get rid of it, let alone forget it.

"Jesus, Mary, Joseph..."

"Oh, shut up, Jimmy...", Boyle choked, standing up. "Captain, what do we do?"

Bonnet frowned. He seemed to be thinking intensely, but didn't answer. Brianna stared at him, her heart pounding, then at Boyle and finally at poor Jimmy who couldn't get over his fear. She thought about O'Brien, who was stuck on the _Gloriana_ with MacNamara’s minions watching him closely. She thought about all those who had helped her when the huge man from Philadelphia had tried to kidnap her. Her gaze fell on Bonnet again and suddenly, she couldn’t stand the idea of seeing him or his crew die because of that bastard. Even though Bonnet had made that deal and got into this mess on his own, she refused to let him down. Not now that they were so close to their goal. Not after taking all those risks.

In one swift motion, she untied the light scarf from around her neck and after folding it into a triangle, she wrapped it around her nose and mouth and tied it into a knot behind her head. Bonnet’s eyes widened as she entered the tomb again. The smell was less strong. Perhaps she had gotten used to it, or maybe opening the slab had allowed the cool night air in. She felt her stomach protest, but held on. The new lock should have given her a clue, but would that have changed her mind? The answer was definitely ‘no’.

"If I may, captain...", began one of the other two sailors, Flaherty, "your little lady's got bigger bollocks than a lot of men I know..."

Boyle also placed his scarf on his nose and followed Brianna inside, galvanized by the young woman’s tenacity. Bonnet imitated them, after patting Jimmy's back and ordering him to stay outside to watch for the signal. And soon, the already loosened and destabilized slab was tilted to the side, leaving the grave wide open. Brianna lowered the lantern into the hole and a shiver ran down her spine. Joannah's small coffin, almost intact, rested at the bottom of the pit. The body of the alleged witch had been thrown next to it, barely covered with a filthy shroud. Which, as she noted with a new gag, was moving. The body was teeming with maggots and flesh-eating insects of all kinds. But other than that, the pit was desperately empty.

Brianna saw Bonnet look at her from the other side of the mausoleum and even in the pale candlelight, she could see that he was bubbling with rage and apprehension. But she refused to give up now. Putting the lantern on the ground, she sat on the edge of the pit – while Boyle murmured in turn "Jesus, Mary, Joseph" – and jumped, staying as far as possible from Maria's corpse.

She looked up and stared at the motionless men, her nausea getting worse every second. "Give me those damn ropes," she growled, the smell stinging her eyes. Boyle hurried to drop the ropes into the pit and Brianna worked to lift one end of the small coffin to pass a rope underneath, then a second rope around the other end. The coffin was strangely heavy but she managed to do it and threw the ropes up so that her accomplices would lift it out of the pit. As the coffin rose into the air, Brianna ran her hands over the walls, looking for any hidden mechanism or suspicious crack.

Above her, she suddenly heard Jimmy's muffled voice: someone was approaching on the road and the lookouts had uncovered their lanterns, sending the signal. Bonnet blew out the candle without any warning, plunging them into darkness and complete silence. Surprised, Brianna felt her foot slip on a sticky mass of bodily fluids and tried to catch her balance, but fell flat on the shroud with a sickening noise. The stench became unbearable and she clenched her teeth as her hands sunk into the contents of Maria Hallet's bowels. She stifled a groan and felt tears of terror in her eyes. After a minute that seemed to last forever, Boyle relit the candle with the flint lighter and the men leaned over the pit, as she crawled out of the rotting body, trembling, and pressed her back against the wall.

"Lift me up... Lift me up, _for fuck’s sake_ ," she whined, raising her arms. Silently, they hoisted her out of the hole and as soon as her feet touched the ground, Brianna left the mausoleum to puke her guts out. She dropped on all fours on the grass, her body shivering uncontrollably. When she turned back towards the men, she saw them stare at her in astonishment. _What the hell are they waiting for? Haven't I done enough already?_ , she thought, getting up painfully, her eyes flashing with anger.

"Open that fucking coffin..."

Jimmy looked at her in terror, while Boyle looked away as if he had not heard anything.

"Miss... the treasure is not here... You have to face the facts," Flaherty winced. "You were mistaken."

"The coffin..." she started, but Flaherty interrupted her.

"This is madness, Miss, their souls will haunt us until the day we die..."

"...was far too heavy to only contain the fifty-three year old remains of a stillborn baby. There's something else in it…”, she finished, her lips still trembling.

Boyle ran a hand over his face and sighed. "I say we leave it at that..."

Brianna turned to him, clenching her fists. "Do you want to die, Mr. Boyle?", she asked in a whisper. But even in that tone, everyone could hear the tears in her voice. "Because that's what will happen if we don't find the treasure. You will die... as will Jimmy... and all the people who were even remotely nice to me... So, you do whatever you want... But I will not leave this place until I see what’s in that bloody coffin."

Bonnet was staring at her with an indefinable expression. Had he understood that she had received threats from MacNamara too? Probably. It was the only logical explanation to her behavior, he would probably put two and two together. She turned to the pirate, her eyes begging him, and mouthed "Please". For a few seconds, the only audible sound was the wind in the trees, before Bonnet strode back into the mausoleum, grabbed one of the pickaxes and struck the coffin lid with all his might. The wood cracked around the point of impact, the noise echoing throughout the cemetery and the surrounding woods. Brianna jumped, but he raised his tool again and struck the lid a second, third and fourth time, until it broke apart.

As she had planned, the coffin didn’t contain any remains, but small jute bags and a wooden box. One of the bags was broken and had spilled its contents: golden coins.

"Bloody hell...", Flaherty said, as if he couldn’t believe it.

" _That’s_ Black Sam’s treasure?", Boyle said, pouting disappointedly as Brianna leaned over to open the small chest. It contained several scrolls rolled up and sealed with wax. She broke one of the seals and brought the paper to the lantern. "No, this is just a taste...", she mumbled. Bonnet took the scrolls from her hands and let out a delighted chuckle. "Your father was only half-wrong...", he said as he observed the maps. "The treasure is not exactly here."

"I'd rather say that he was half-right, if you don’t mind...", Brianna retorted with a smile.

"Hurry up," said Boyle, grabbing two bags of gold. "Let’s take everything we can and get out before someone comes here to see what caused all this fuss..."

They quickly emptied the coffin and loaded the gold and tools on their horses. Brianna closed the mausoleum door, her hands still trembling and covered with sticky and smelly fluids. The journey back to the ship went like a dream, she had lost all sense of time or distance and just looked straight ahead. Everything would have been much simpler if the empty coffin had been the only thing in the bottom of that pit. She closed her eyes, but the image of the shroud, teeming with vermin, immediately imposed itself on her mind and she almost vomited. However, her empty stomach just painfully churned without throwing anything up.

She dismounted on the dock and let the men unload their loot and tools before bringing the horses back to their stables. On the steerage, the sailors were discovering the bags filled with gold and listened to their captain’s story with obvious joy. She vaguely heard the crew vote "yes" in unison to follow the maps, but her ears began to ring and buzz. She wanted to rub her eyes to get rid of the white veil that clouded her vision, but the stench and dirt all over her forearms made her want to scream. Her hands were shaking so much that she couldn't tell if it was a visual effect or actual twitches.

She could only think about one thing. To get rid of the grime, the smell, that she could feel all over her. Far away, as if her ears were filled with cotton balls, she could hear the sound of the water lapping the hull of the _Gloriana_. Dragging her feet, she made her way among the howling pirates, screaming ‘ _hip hip hip hurrays’_ without paying any attention to her, and went down on the dock. She would have done anything to get rid of the noise, the ringing, the sensations, the smell. She just wanted everything to stop. Now.

Putting Bonnet's tricorn on the ground, she got rid of her leather coat, then her boots and waist-cincher, only keeping her pants and her blouse. She pulled the butterfly out of her hair and removed the clover from around her neck. It was a miracle that she still managed to do all this in her state, but she did not even realize it.

"Miss Brianna…?", she heard in the distance.

_Just a bath…_

She never knew if she had answered aloud or in her head. One moment later, she jumped from the dock into the waters of the bay. The cold enveloped her immediately and as she sank into the depths of the harbor, her eyes closed. She was relieved not to smell that damn stench anymore, not to feel the sticky liquid that had dried on her fingers or the contact of the corpse against her chest. She was even considering staying there for a moment, in that quiet place. She let gravity do its work for a few seconds, until her bare feet hit the sand. The effect was similar to an electric shock and she opened her eyelids, only to find herself surrounded by black water. About ten feet above her head, she could see the faint glow of the moon. Kicking the ground and waving her arms, she came to the surface, her mind a hundred times clearer now. Her survival instinct had taken over and she understood she had been in a serious state of shock.

When her head resurfaced, she took a deep breath. A few sailors were leaning over the water and she saw Bonnet’s face go from panic to relief. Brianna swam along the dock until she reached an old rope ladder. By the time she climbed, the captain had put his tricorn back on his head and was waiting for her with a blanket, his green eyes bright with anger. The blanket was immediately thrown over her shoulders and he wrapped her tightly in it.

"What is feckin’ wrong wit’ ye?!’, he yelled, his Irish accent at its best. The other sailors were exchanging curious looks.

"I... I couldn't take it anymore... the smell...", she stuttered, her teeth chattering from the cold. "I had to... get rid of it..."

" _Damnú_...", he swore in Gaelic, rubbing the blanket harder before barking over his shoulder: "Jimmy, get ’er stuff!"

The cabin boy ran, picking up Brianna's clothes and jewels to bring them back on board. Now her mind was clearer, she realized what a stupid and dangerous thing she had done, but at the time, she couldn’t control herself. At least she felt much better now. She went down to the cabin, Bonnet and Jimmy on her heels, the blanket still tightly wrapped around her. She just wanted to dry herself, put on clean clothes and curl up under the sheets. But when the door slammed behind Jimmy and judging by the pirate’s furious glare, she knew that would have to wait.

"What the hell was that?”, he groaned, narrowing his eyes.

"I told you, I just needed to get rid of..."

"What you said at the cemetery. Your little speech about those who are going to die…”, he corrected harshly.

Brianna pursed her lips and looked away. She didn’t want to have this conversation now, but she also knew that Bonnet would not let go. "Do we really have to do this now?”, she sighed wearily, but the look he gave her definitely said "yes".

 _Dammit_ …, Brianna swore internally, thinking about a way to tell her story and still be alive by the end of the introduction. _I ran into MacNamara while I was trying to escape... Surprise: the bottle of champagne was only a false pretense... Fun fact: I tried to run off, but I changed my mind, please don’t kill me_...

Shivering, she wrapped herself tighter in her blanket and looked away. "Do you promise not to get mad before I finish?"

"Absolutely not."

 _Well, that’s a good start_. Brianna's eyes widened and she inhaled deeply.

"I ran away."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**And it’s over for today! Brianna will have to give a hell of an explanation and Bonnet will certainly not like it… But considering their recent tendency to grope each other when they fight…………**

**I hope you enjoyed this adventure chapter and that you are not too disappointed that the treasure was not there. Did you really think it would be that easy? Our dear Bellamy hid his loot better than that !! _That_ was the easy part... Please feel free to give me your theories about what’s next and your opinions, in the meantime I wish you a good week and see you next Monday!**

**Xérès**


	9. A Ghaoil, Leig Dhachaigh Gum Mhathair Mi

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**I know you were looking forward to this chapter! After finding a few bags of gold and especially some maps leading to Samuel Bellamy's treasure, Brianna is forced to confess that she tried to escape in Philadelphia... Here is what happens!  
Thanks for all of you who read and commented last chapter, I hope you’ll enjoy this one!**

**oOo**

  1. _A Ghaoil, Leig Dhachaigh Gum Mhathair Mi_ (Love, let me go home to my mother)



« I ran away. »

Simple, straightforward. She’d better not beat around the bush, especially since her current presence on the ship meant that she could not have gone very far. He couldn't actually get angry for that, right?

"In Philadelphia. I sneaked out, left the docks and headed for the city."

She paused to stare at Bonnet and saw him leaning over one of the chairs, in front of her, his knuckles turning white around the wood.

"I thought I was off the hook when I ran into Mr. MacNamara and two of his henchmen in an alleyway. I'm not going to repeat his entire monologue, but...", she raised an eyebrow, "… he told me that if I didn't come back to you immediately, he would hurt you... you and all the young sailors I could have befriended... Then he gave me some money to buy something as an excuse and the next moment he was gone."

"The champagne...", he grumbled between his teeth and she nodded.

"I don't know how long I stood there, sobbing on the ground, before finding the strength to get up..." She lowered her nose in her blanket, ashamed. "And then I came back."

"Why?"

She looked up, frowning, as he walked around the table and slowly approached her. "What do you mean?"

"You could have escaped to find your parents..."

Brianna frowned and shook her head. "I couldn't let him-"

"We bought and kidnapped you, you don’t owe us anything… It’s not like we were friends", he went on coldly. He had said "we" and "us" as if there were now two separate and opposite entities: herself and the whole _Gloriana_. And even if it hurt to admit it, the phrasing was heartbreaking.

"You were not there!”, she defended herself. "You didn’t hear all the horrible things he said, all the things he swore he would do to you..."

"Maybe he was lying... And if you had left, whether he lied or not, it wouldn’t have mattered. You never would have known what happened to us, so why should you care?"

Brianna felt her eyes fill with tears and her cold, damp clothes made her shiver more and more violently. "I wouldn’t be able to live with myself... That's why I jumped into the grave, at the cemetery. I looked at you, Jimmy, Boyle... and I was scared. I was scared for each and every one of you."

For a few seconds, silence fell between them, and Brianna's chattering teeth was the only audible sound. As Bonnet remained silent, she removed the blanket from her shoulders to rub her wet hair and mop up the excess water that dripped on her nape. The pirate's hands suddenly rested on her hips and she jumped: the difference in temperature between her skin and his was huge, and the blanket fell to the ground with a soft noise. She looked up at him and the intensity of his gaze hit her hard, paralyzing her on the spot. Slowly, he grabbed the sides of her blouse and pulled them up on her frozen waist and chest.

For the first time ever, her brain was empty. Bonnet's touch warmed her body and soul, made her forget the last hours and filled the void she had felt in her heart after two days without touching each other. At that moment, the treasures, MacNamara, the sailors, her parents, Roger, nothing more existed in her world than this room, this man and what they were about to do.

When he reached her arms, Brianna lifted them gently to allow him to get rid of the garment. Without taking his eyes off her, he started to caress her skin with his fingers, before gently pushing her backwards. When Brianna felt the table against her lower back, she sat on it and spread her legs to draw the pirate towards her and kiss him passionately, but he pushed her hard, refusing the kiss.

Intrigued by his gesture, Brianna did not give up and her hands rushed over the buttons of his waistcoat to undo them. A few seconds later, Bonnet was also taking off his blouse, passing the fabric over his head. He then got rid of Brianna’s pants, as she did the same with his. Then with his arms under her thighs, he carried her to the bunk.

Not knowing what to do with her body, Brianna laid on her back, trembling with both cold and emotion, and waited for him to lie down next to her. Two days earlier, she hadn't had time to wonder what to do. Bonnet had dominated the game and she had followed the movement. This time, the atmosphere was different, much less animal but more electric. And the fact that he dodged her _every_ attempt to kiss him had added to the strange tension that had set in between them.

The Irishman laid down on top of her and Brianna tried to capture his lips again, but he grabbed her jaw between his fingers and forced her to turn her head, before biting the soft skin of her neck. It was salty with sea water and he tasted it more with the tip of his tongue. Brianna felt his fingers wander between her thighs and she held her breath, waiting for him to finish what he had started forty-eight hours earlier. His caresses made her shiver and she closed her eyelids. But as she took refuge in this delicious darkness, Bonnet firmly ordered her to keep her eyes open. She gave him a puzzled look, expecting to find the usual mischievous glint in his eyes or the sign that he was still playing with her, but there was _nothing_. His green eyes were as dark and cold as the unfathomable depths of the ocean.

Brianna arched her back as he increased the pressure on her clitoris and the speed of his movements, making it increasingly difficult for her to keep her eyes open. Her eyelids closed on their own, by pure reflex, but each time they did, he called her to order and she opened them again. After a few minutes and a first wave of pleasure, Brianna felt him bring his fingers a little closer to her entrance and she instinctively spread her thighs to allow them to enter. And so they did. Hard. She let out a hiccup and stared at the pirate in surprise, as he began to move back and forth with exquisite and disturbing slowness. The absence of his usual triumphant smile lit up every possible warning light in Brianna’s brain, but these signals were constantly shut down by the lascivious movements of the pirate's hand.

"I’ve tried to use force...", he whispered between his teeth, as she widened her eyes at the hint of anger in his voice. "I’ve tried kindness..." He abruptly withdrew his hand from between her thighs and positioned himself above her. "And still, you tried to escape..."

"I came back...", she gasped, feeling the pirate’s sex pressing against hers.

"Under another man’s threat..." He started to slowly enter her and Brianna breathed in, both excited and frightened by the words of her lover.

She smirked and slid one hand in the Irishman's blond hair to bring his face against hers. Never had she been so attracted by his dangerousness. "If that’s what’s bothering you... you can threaten me now...", she breathed against his lips. Plunging her feverish gaze into his cold green eyes, she finally saw the spark she had been looking for.

Bonnet's arms slipped under her back, to grab her shoulders, and once she was unable to move, his gaze still locked in hers, he penetrated her deeply, grinning when he felt her body and her soul give in. Brianna’s blue eyes blurred for a fraction of a second, when he made her his own forever. That moment, when she had accepted her destiny, was what he had wanted to see from the very beginning. Since that day in Kingston, when she had hit one of her abductors in the face and then tried to escape him, he had just wanted to submit her to his will. And not just her body. Submitting a body was quite easy. You just had to torture, hurt, traumatize, until that weak envelope of flesh and blood surrendered. But the spirit, especially that of a woman like her... it required much more subtlety.

He waited a few seconds, enjoying the slightly painful expression on her face, then began to move inside her again. "I don’t need to anymore. Now you’re mine, Fraser..."

Brianna wrapped her legs around Bonnet's hips and he went deeper, harder, as she frowned and opened her mouth to take a long breath. Her cheeks had turned pink and her skin had returned to a more normal temperature. "What if I run away again?", she challenged him in a weak voice.

He went back and forth between her thighs. "I'll put you in a cage..."

She let out a brief laugh, then moaned when he gave another thrust. "This wouldn’t be the first time..."

"...and I will only get you out of it to satisfy my most basic needs..."

"Excuse me, was that supposed to be a _threat_...?”, she breathed before kissing him passionately. She felt him smile against her lips, and he started to swing his hips faster.

"Or I could stop what I’m doing and never touch you again until you beg me on your knees..." He punctuated his suggestion with a series of kisses in her neck and he felt Brianna’s fingers pull his blonde hair back to force him to look at her.

" _Now_ , I feel threatened..."

They kissed again, and Brianna was finally able to close her eyes, allowing herself to be swept away by this unusual mix of pain and pleasure coming from her lower abdomen. The new sensations that Bonnet caused in her were already crazy and she could not help thinking of the next times they would have sex, without the awkward and painful pressure of her virginity. She finally felt the arms of the Irishman tighten around her and understood he would be done soon. Pulling on his hair again, she brought his forehead against hers.

"And now _you’re_ mine..."

Her words set Bonnet's eyes on fire one last time and he came inside her with a groan, never taking his eyes off her. Both furious and delighted with this last act of rebellion against his authority. He collapsed on top of her and after a few seconds, he was about to have the last word with a clever answer, but her sensual smile wiped out any attempt of his brain to function properly.

Stephen Bonnet didn't know it yet, but at this very moment, when he decided to kiss his prisoner rather than to tame her, he had just admitted his defeat.

~o~

When Brianna woke up, she immediately felt the cold, empty sheets next to her, as well as the slight rolling motion of the _Gloriana_ indicating that the ship had set sail. Was she sleeping so soundly that she had neither heard Bonnet get up nor perceived the sailors’ ruckus on deck? She sighed and turned on the bunk, enjoying the sensation of the sheets on her naked body. A silly smile appeared on her face as the events of the night came back to her. She regretted, however, that Bonnet was not there when she woke up. She would have liked to analyze his behavior now that he had gotten what he wanted. Would he ignore her and abandon her at their next stop? Or would he keep her forever with him? Would he be more understanding now or would he just treat her as an object of pleasure?

Brianna wanted just as much as she dreaded the answer. But in any case, she couldn't stay there torturing herself. The last time she had imagined all the possible scenarios in her head, he had taken advantage of the situation and made fun of her. Jumping to her feet, she emerged from her cocoon and was about to wash herself when she noticed that their activities had left a few traces on the sheets. She observed them for a moment, rolled the sheet into a ball and threw it near the clear water bucket to wash it with her. Once fully dressed, she also began to clean her leather coat, her pants and blouse to get rid of Maria Hallet’s smelly souvenirs, before putting everything to dry on the balcony.

Gathering her courage, she opened the cabin door and went up to the surface. On the upper deck, O’Brien was steering the ship. Bonnet was by his side, reading the maps they had found during the night. A few other sailors surrounded them, frowning, as if they were all thinking deeply. Reluctantly, she approached them, her eyes searching for Bonnet's in a desperate attempt to anticipate his reaction. But the first to notice her presence was the first mate, the only one who had not his eyes on a map or on the floor.

"Maybe Sleeping Beauty could help us?", he said as all eyes turned to her.  
Brianna pursed her lips uncomfortably, but did not have time to answer. One of the oldest sailors groaned: "A woman, readin’ a map? What next… "

The sailors laughed and she turned to the old salt. "He's right, I already found it, took it out of a grave and served it to you on a silver platter, I'm not going to read it for you _too_...", she retorted harshly. O'Brien laughed as the old man gave her a nasty look.

"That’s what happens when girls her age are not married… She sure needs a husband and a good beatin’", the old man grumbled.

Bonnet slowly looked up at his sailor, before mumbling something to O’Brien, who laughed loudly. His laughter intensified when he saw Brianna's nasty gaze. Bonnet had turned his head back to his maps, without even looking at her.

"I’m pretty sure that this archipelago is Antigua and Barbuda, but the way it was mapped a few decades ago...", said quartermaster Doherty. "Since then, other islands have been added, but if we assume that this...", he pointed at an island on the Atlantic side of the archipelago, "is Barbuda and that...", he put his finger on another island, “Saint-Barthelemy…”

"Then _this_ should be Sint-Eustatius...", Bonnet finished, frowning. "But the place indicated by Bellamy, right there... This is in the middle of nowhere, there's nothing there..."

The old Murphy approached. "Did you say Sint-Eustatius, captain?"

Bonnet nodded, turning to his oldest and most faithful employee, who was rummaging among the other scrolls found in the chest.

"Where are the verses you were talking about earlier? They were scribbled on a parchment…", asked the old man, while Jimmy handed him the document he was looking for.

"Here, Mr. Murphy... But if you ask me, it is just gibberish...”, he said before reading a few words out loud. “ _With the Bottom behind and facing Spring_ … How can we face spring? And here it says… _The Queen will open the Gates of Hell_ …”

The old man smiled as he read the poem presumably written by Bellamy himself, then leaned over the map Bonnet was holding in his hands.

"When I was a young cabin boy, my captain at the time had brought us to an island, so small and so steep that almost no one could bear to live there...", he mumbled, while the pirate handed him the map to have a better look at it. Murphy had no equal to detect the smallest damages in the hull, but he had to stretch his arms further and further every time he needed to read something. “And nobody bothered to map it."

"Let me guess, that island was near Sint-Eustatius?”, Bonnet smirked.

"And it was called 'Saba'...", Murphy added, patting Jimmy's head with his old wrinkled fingers.

The boy frowned, then his face lit up when he realized what the old man meant: "Saba is another spelling for Sheba. As in the Bible’s Queen of Sheba! That would be the Queen of the poem!"

"And that's not all... The island is divided into hamlets. And as I recall, one of these hamlets was nicknamed ‘The Bottom’ and another..."

"Spring?”, Jimmy suggested with a broad smile.

"No, I think ‘Spring’ was one of the island’s bays... On the other hand, there was another place called ‘Hell’s Gate’."

"The Gates of Hell...", Bonnet repeated. At that moment, he seemed happier than he had ever been in his life. He grabbed Murphy by the shoulder and patted him hard on the chest, before shouting at the crowd: "What do you say, gentlemen? Shall we open the Gates of Hell?"

Brianna jumped when all the men around her howled in unison. Murphy gave Bonnet a manly hug, going as far as to grab his blonde head between his hands and kiss him on the forehead. The captain laughed, while his men yelled a few ‘hip hip hip hurrays’. She couldn't help but smile at those demonstrations of joy from the crew and its captain, especially Murphy’s fatherly gesture, and shook her head in bewilderment. It was at that exact moment that Bonnet's gaze met hers and she saw his smile widen. She was thinking that his green eyes looked like a child’s on Christmas morning, when he suddenly made his way among his men to approach her. She frowned, not quite sure what to expect, but he grabbed her hand in his and lifted it up.

"Gentlemen, it seems to me that it would be fair to thank the one without whom none of this would have been possible.... To Brianna Fraser!"

Brianna felt her cheeks turn crimson red, while all the sailors repeated "To Brianna Fraser!" _Almost all of them_..., she thought when she saw old Murphy stare at her silently. However, if he did not open his mouth, he smiled and nodded briefly at her, and she immediately smiled back, before jumping again when Bonnet lowered her hand to kiss it like a gentleman.

"Calm down, we haven't found the treasure yet...", she grumbled, without being able to get rid of her silly smile.

"We still have a few more bags of gold, thanks to you, Miss Brianna…", Jimmy said cheerfully.

"And my children will certainly hear about that little redhead who jumped with both feet into a grave", Flaherty added. Brianna’s smile faded and she shivered at the memory.

"You don’t have any children, you idiot...", a sailor bellowed behind his back.

"Not yet!"

The sailors snickered, some adding that no woman in her right mind would ever marry Flaherty, and as they scattered on the deck, Brianna allowed herself to breathe in deeply to soothe the heat in her cheeks. For the first time since her arrival on the _Gloriana_ , she felt like she was part of the team, and not just a toy that Bonnet kept in his bedroom. She knew now that if one day the pirate agreed to let her go, she would definitely have some great memories of her journey with them. She only hoped that those memories would not be ruined by a late arrival in Fraser’s Ridge, discovering her parents had died before she could see them…

"Head South, Mr. O'Brien!”, Bonnet solemnly announced to his first mate, who shook his head laughing.

"With all due respect, captain, I had guessed..."

"I'm going down to see Flanagan and check the rations, as we haven't bought any food in Cape Cod because of the epidemic...," Bonnet said, this time also turning to Brianna. "Be a good girl, will you? And don't touch that wheel."

She chuckled but didn’t answer and he disappeared a few seconds later down the stairs. When he was out of sight, Brianna turned to O'Brien with a broad smile. The man glanced discreetly around him and as nobody paid any more attention to them, he leaned over the handles and whispered: "Do you want to try?"

"I thought you’d never ask...", she laughed, rushing to the helm.

"Just long enough for me to light my cigar," O'Brien said with a smile. "And because you deserved it... since we seem to owe you our lives."

Brianna gave him a surprised look before realizing that Bonnet must have told him about her mishap with MacNamara and his threats. "We're not out of trouble yet...", she whispered sadly.

"Hands parallel to each other... and just keep the wheel straight...", ordered the first mate, making sure there were no obstacles or difficulties straight ahead. They had left Cape Cod a few hours ago and were now facing the Atlantic. The young man took a cigar from a pocket inside his waistcoat and backed off a few steps to light it with a dying candle from a lantern nearby. He then blew the candle and took a puff with a satisfied sigh.

O’Brien rubbed his tired eyes and leaned for a moment on the railing, smoking his cigar and relaxing his stiff muscles. He did not take his eyes off the ocean, in case anything dangerous approached the _Gloriana_ but the sea was as calm as a millpond. Nothing on the horizon. When he turned to his temporary substitute, about ten minutes later, he couldn’t help but laugh at her blissful face.

Seeing that he was looking at her, Brianna narrowed her eyes and frowned, while bending her shoulders. "Who am I imitating?"

O'Brien snickered and was about to answer when something in his peripheral vision alerted him: a tricorn, climbing the stairs of the upper deck.

" _Shite!”,_ he swore, rushing to the wheel. Brianna ran back to the railing, hitting the wood violently as Bonnet reappeared. He threw them a suspicious look but having nothing to blame them for, he simply turned to his first mate.

"We have enough food and water to make it to Saba. You can get away from the coast and head straight for Antigua... I will relieve you in a few hours", he ordered as O'Brien frowned.

"Isn't it a bit risky to go straight off? It will take about twelve days to reach Antigua from here and the only archipelago on the way is Bermuda, which is teeming with red coats… Should there be a problem, it would be the only place we could go to. If we sail along the coast, it would take longer, but we could stop over in Wilmington as usual before the Caribbean…"

Brianna straightened up when she heard the name of the city, and her interest didn’t go unnoticed. Bonnet’s eyes immediately darkened.

"Sailing along the coast and stopping in Carolina would add almost a week to the journey... MacNamara expected to see us right after Cape Cod, and we will not be back in Philadelphia for at least a month now. I don’t want to waste more time."

"Won't he send men after us if we don’t show up as planned?", Brianna asked.

Bonnet gave her a side glance and she had the distinct feeling that he was furious. Her reflex movement had betrayed her and not only did he know where she wanted to go, but he was now going to avoid the place at all costs. "One of his men sent a messenger to Philadelphia just before we left Truro, to tell him that the actual treasure is somewhere else... We shouldn't have to worry about that for the moment, but we’d better not loiter on the way."

She sighed in relief and nodded before turning to the ocean. Wasting time was no longer the only reason Bonnet wanted to avoid a stopover in Wilmington. _Well done, Brianna, really, you're a champion… A fucking champion!_ , she screamed internally, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, Bonnet had appeared next to her.

"Your stubbornness will never cease to amaze me...", he growled, glaring at her. "Every time I think I subdued you, you always prove me wrong."

"Hope springs eternal, as they say..."

He forced her to look at him, his fingers painfully digging into her arm. Brianna winced and glanced at O'Brien, a few yards behind them. But he wouldn’t dare to look at them, his eyes obstinately avoiding what was happening in front of him.

"I hate to repeat myself and usually I don't have to, because everyone here knows what happens..."

Brianna raised her eyebrows and smiled coldly. "Do you know the definition of insanity, _captain_?" As Bonnet did not answer, she went on: "Insanity is doing the exact same thing over and over again, expecting things to change..."

He had an evil grin, as he understood the reference to his own sanity (or lack thereof), and pulled her hard towards him. Pressing his forehead against hers, he slid his hand in her red curls. The tension between them was palpable and Brianna found herself torn between the urge to run away and the desire to surrender. Again. Bonnet really had a talent for stirring contradictory feelings in her and she feared that one day her mind would no longer be clear enough to make informed decisions. With good reason: the simple pressure of his fingers around her head threatened to have her falling to the dark side. And even more when he murmured:

"In that case, you are as insane as I am..."

~o~

After their altercation, Brianna had isolated herself at the front of the ship, sitting on a pile of ropes, her chin on her arms resting on the railing. Unlike what she had imagined that morning, Bonnet's behavior had not changed towards her. She had been naive to think that she could seduce the pirate and persuade him to let her go. The truth was he had seduced her much more than she had seduced him. Her heart was probably the only one pounding when they touched or kissed. And now that he knew about Wilmington, he would never closely or remotely approach the coasts of North Carolina. She was still brooding when night fell, and after a few hours, someone finally came to break her isolation.

"Are you all right, Miss Brianna?"

The young woman turned her head and smiled at Jimmy, hoping to reassure him, but she must have failed miserably because his expression immediately went from worried to panicked.

"You are not feeling good at all!", he exclaimed, and Brianna was almost offended by this vehement criticism of her acting skills.

"Is it so obvious?"

"Well... usually, you are a ray of sunshine, but now..." The cabin boy hesitated, as if he had reached the limit of his own metaphor.

"Night has come?”, Brianna suggested wearily. To be honest, the boy could not have found a better comparison. For the first time in a while, she felt really depressed and out of options. Lost in darkness.

"You could say that..." Jimmy sat next to her, crossing his legs. "I understand, you know... If I were a girl, I don't think I would have appreciated being sold to men like us. Outlaws with no future…”

"You are not an outlaw with no future... and even if that was true, you have your whole life ahead of you to be someone else."

Jimmy smiled sadly and shook his head. "No, Miss. I don't deserve another life. Not after what I did..."

"What could you possibly do that was so bad that you deserve to live as an outlaw?”, she asked with a hint of irony in her voice. A hint she immediately regretted when she heard his answer.

"I killed my little sister..." Seeing the young woman's puzzled look, Jimmy lowered his nose. "When I was thirteen... My parents were in the fields and my older sister had to go and buy some things for her wedding day... She left me with Emily. I loved Emily, but she was little and not very interesting to watch... I went fishing with some friends and I took her with me. We were goofing around in the water while she was chasing butterflies... She fell into the river…”

"It was not your fault...", Brianna said softly.

"That's what the judge said... But for my parents, I might as well have strangled her with my own hands. As I could not be sent to jail, they sold me to the first captain who would accept me..." His face brightened and he smiled again. "That is how I ended up here, on the _Gloriana_."

"If I think the way you do, then I killed someone too..."

"You, Miss? Kill someone? I refuse to believe that…”

"Two years ago, I found my father as drunk as a lord on his way home from the university...", she says, choosing her words carefully to avoid mentioning throughout her story that he was actually driving his car. "He told me that he had found love and that he was going to leave my mother for another woman. He wanted to go back to England and take me with him. We had an argument. A very bad one. And I ran away. He left... on his horse... and he had an accident."

"I'm sorry...", Jimmy muttered. "But you had nothing to do with it."

"Just like you had nothing to do with the death of your little sister."

The cabin boy nodded with a sad smile. "I see what you mean... but it's different. I was the oldest one, it was my responsibility."

Brianna did not answer. She knew that she could not change his mind until time had eased his guilt. They remained silent for a moment, side by side, just enjoying the peace that one always feels after revealing a painful secret.

"My older sister always said: when your heart feels heavy, you just have to sing the sadness away...", Jimmy suddenly said cheerfully.

Brianna let out an unconvinced laugh. "I wish it was that simple..."

"Would you please sing something, Miss Brianna...?"

"What makes you think I can sing?"

Jimmy rolled his eyes as if it was obvious. "All the pretty girls do..." He jumped, as if he had just realized what he had said.

"I promise, I won't tell the captain you said that...", she whispered, laughing.

The cabin boy heaved a sigh of relief. "So? Are you going to sing?"

Brianna laughed. It was really hard to say no to this kid. She thought for a minute, before finding a suitable song. Once again, she pictured herself in her Boston living room, placing a record on the turntable. The crackling sound in the speakers, the piano and the sax of an unforgettable hit by Bobby Darin, _Beyond The Sea_. Snapping her fingers, she began to sing in a low voice:

" _Somewhere beyond the sea, somewhere waitin 'for me, my lover stands on golden sands and watches the ships that go sailin_ ’.”

Jimmy's face brightened, as he seemed to appreciate the rhythm and the warm, jazzy tone of Brianna's voice. This gave her confidence and she sang the second verse a little louder.

" _Somewhere beyond the sea, she's there watchin 'for me, if I could fly like birds on high then straight to her arms, I’d go sailin'_." She wouldn't have confessed it under torture, but the boy had been right. Singing made her feel good, brought a bit of normalcy to her current life and she began to nod her head to the rhythm of the contrabass, that she could hear in her head as clearly as if it was next to her. " _It's far beyond a star, it's near beyond the moon. I know beyond a doubt, my heart will lead me there soon. We’ll meet beyond the shore, we’ll kiss just as before, happy we’ll be beyond the sea and never again, I’ll go sailin’._ "

She laughed when he too started to move his head at the same pace, unaware of the fact that they were no longer alone. Their spectator was lurking in the shadow of the foremast. He would have been completely invisible if his tricorn hat did not protrude on one side.

“ _I know beyond a doubt, my heart will lead me there soon. We’ll meet I know we’ll meet beyond the shore, we’ll kiss just as before. Happy we’ll be beyond the sea and never again, I’ll go sailin’... No more sailin’... So long sailin’... Bye bye sailin’._ "

When she finally fell silent, Jimmy clapped his hands cheerfully and gave her an appreciative look. "You see, you are shining again... My sister was never wrong about these things."

"Rule number one: women are never wrong. Period…”, Brianna announced, her index finger raised to the sky.

He laughed. "I'll try to remember that the day I marry one..."

Behind them, the shadow among shadows slowly disappeared without a sound to go down to his cabin. For a moment, he had considered stepping up. To keep them from becoming friends. He didn’t want the cabin boy to receive all of her beautiful smiles. Her songs and her secrets. He had considered sending Jimmy working on some random task at the other end of the _Gloriana_ , then dragging Brianna to his bed, where he would take her. Again and again, until she looked at him the way she did the night before.

But he had changed his mind. With a sigh, he dropped onto the bunk, before realizing that the sheets were not only perfectly stretched and spotless, but also smelled of soap. He straightened up with a frown and a slight grin. Before getting up immediately. _I’ll be darned_...

Running across the room, he came out into the corridor and was about to go upstairs to get her when he saw Brianna go down. Her eyes widened when she saw him appear out of nowhere and she stopped. But before she could ask what was happening to him, he crossed the last few meters between them and took her hand. Slamming the cabin door behind them, he smiled before pulling her against him.

"I’m sorry, but it’s a shame...", he breathed, impatiently waiting for her to ask what was upsetting him.

He felt her stiffen a little bit when he untied the laces of her waist-cincher. "What?"

"These sheets are way too clean," he replied, before dragging her to the bunk. She laughed and it was the most beautiful sound he had heard all day. "Let's change that."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Aaaaaand they did it. FINALLY xD**

**I quite like that Brianna is ALWAYS trying to have the last word. Bonnet too, except that he’s absolutely failing… So tell me, what do you think about that hot quarrel? About Jimmy's backstory? And about the atmosphere between Brianna and the other sailors? I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter and until the next one I wish you a good week! See you next Monday!**

**Xérès**


	10. Trasna na dTonnta

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Happy Monday everyone! Here is the tenth chapter of this fiction. Brianna and Stephen finally took the plunge and the young woman is gradually gelling with the crew. They are now back to the Caribbean with a new destination: Saba Island, but the crossing will not be an easy job... I hope you enjoy this new chapter! It’s more of a transitional chapter, but that doesn't mean nothing happens ;)**

**Thank you, all of you who read and commented last chapter!**

**oOo**

  1. _Trasna na dTonnta_ (Across the waves)



_Around her, the whole house was screaming. Every beam and wooden board were consumed by flames, creaking, hissing, while the roaring fire destroyed the entire building. Brianna stood in the middle of the blaze, but she did not feel the heat of the flames licking her feet and calves. However, the acrid smell of the smoke filled her nostrils, her lungs, making her want to cough._

_"Mom!”, she yelled. Even if she had never been here, she knew the place was Claire and Jamie Fraser's living room. No one answered her call. She entered a corridor and while she was still spared by the heat, the furniture, the fabrics, everything was burning, blistering and bursting around her._

_"Bree!"_

_Claire's distant voice came from behind a door and Brianna rushed to open it. But what she found inside made her scream out in horror. On the burning bed, her parents’ intertwined bodies were entirely consumed, as black as carbon, and releasing an awful stench of burnt flesh. She wanted to approach the bed but the bedroom floor collapsed and the next moment she was... on the front lawn of the house. Her brain was slowly starting to realize that she was dreaming, but a part of her was still trying to go back inside and get her parents out of Hell._

_That's when she saw him. Bonnet… near the porch, watching the house collapse. Smiling, he threw a flaming torch into the rubble, dusted himself off and approached her. Brianna was still on all fours, tears rolling down her cheeks._

_"Now there’s no reason for you to leave me, darlin’..."_

Brianna let out a scream and jumped on the mattress, her mouth wide open. Smoke still seemed to fill her nostrils and she looked around in panic, searching for nonexistent flames.

"Easy, darlin’... People might think that I am mistreating you..."

Brianna jumped when she heard the same voice than in her nightmare and turned her head. Wearing only a pair of pants, Bonnet was sitting at his desk, scribbling in his logbook. A lit cigar in his hand. _The smell_..., she understood, closing her eyes. She brought her knees up against her chest, trying to calm her erratic breathing. Her subconscious, undermined by the past few weeks’ events, was starting to mix everything up in her head. She was fully aware that dreams did not always have a logical explanation, but the symbolic meaning of this particular nightmare was more than disturbing. Bonnet’s chair scraped against the floor and his footsteps approached her, but she didn't open her eyelids. The memory of his sly expression as he watched the house burn was far too vivid.

The young woman jumped when he touched her cheek with his fingers and she immediately backed out of his reach until she hit the wall. He was not responsible for her dream, but she couldn't help it. While she was here, having a good time with that damned pirate, the clock was ticking for her parents. How could she enjoy the captain's company so much, when all of her energy should have been focused on rescuing Claire and Jamie? Of course, she had had no choice from the start and in other circumstances, she would have understood that. But after such a nightmare, it was hard to think clearly.

"I had a bad dream... it will pass...", she whispered, avoiding his gaze. She just needed some time to put her ideas back in place.

Bonnet turned away briefly to stub his cigar out in an ashtray on the table, then came back to crawl on the sheets towards her, caressing her bare legs. "Maybe I can help you with that...", he started with a lewd smile, but she slightly kicked a leg in his direction to let him know that he’d better not get too close. He narrowed his eyes, and immediately understood what was going on. "I was in that dream, wasn’t I?"

He seemed annoyed, offended even. Brianna lowered her nose and pursed her lips briefly. "I don't want to talk about it."

He grabbed her abruptly by the thighs and slid her over the bunk, placing her legs on either side of his own hips. "If I’m concerned, I think I have the right to know...", he scolded as she flapped her hands to chase him away. Very quickly, however, he overpowered her and pinned her wrists to the mattress. Brianna sent him an infuriated look. "What was it, sweetheart? Was I hurting you?”, he said, bringing his face close to hers before backing away when she tried to hit him with her forehead.

"I said I don’t want to talk about it!”, she barked, arching her back under his weight in a vain attempt to escape his grip. But that just widened Bonnet's grin when the movement slightly agitated her breasts under his nose.

He leaned a little more, just enough to bite her delicate skin, and felt the young woman kicking out again. "Tell me...", he whispered against her breast. "Tell me or I will make you suffer a thousand tortures until I find the one you were dreaming of..."

He went up between her breasts, towards her collarbone and then her neck, never releasing the pressure on her wrists. Brianna felt her skin cover with goosebumps and although her body was tempted to surrender once again, her reason would not allow it. She decided to nip his desire for her in the bud, and as he was about to capture her lips, she looked at him straight in the eyes and said: "You were killing my parents."

Bonnet's irises, until then animated by lust, immediately went back to a cold shade of green and he backed off a few inches.

"You were setting their house on fire so that I had no reason to run away from you...", Brianna went on harshly. The pirate's hands disappeared and he pulled away from the bed with an annoyed expression.

"Sounds like somethin’ I’d do, all right...", he spat, grabbing his blouse to put it on.

"I saw you slit a man's throat and have him thrown overboard...", she retorted, also putting on a garment in order to feel less exposed to his gaze.

"If that man had kidnapped you, you would be dead by now..."

Brianna stood up and grabbed her petticoat. "Or chitchatting with my mother by the fireplace..."

Bonnet’s eyes had gone mad and she thought that she had probably crossed the line. But before she could make a movement, he swooped down on her. Throwing her over his shoulder like a potatoes sack, he went to the balcony, opened the French doors with one hand, and tipped her over the railing. She screamed with anger, while trying to grab whatever she could. Of course, Bonnet held her tight by the legs and she knew he wouldn't let go.

"You want to go back to your parents? Please do, North Carolina is right over there!"

"Come on, throw me overboard! I will probably get to Wilmington faster if I have to fucking swim there than on your damn skiff!!”, she barked, forgetting the politeness she had forced herself to adopt in this century.

Bonnet's mouth opened, certainly to threaten her again, when Jimmy’s voice rang out above their heads.

"Mr. O’Brien! Over here!"

Bonnet groaned and a few seconds later, O'Brien’s head appeared in turn over the upper deck railing. "Captain... don't do anything you might regret...", the first mate said, a few feet above them.

The pirate scowled and grabbed Brianna by the shoulder to pull her back onto the balcony, before seating her on the railing. He had expected to frighten her, which would at least make sure that things had been set straight, but she did not seem to be shaken in the least.

"I just wanted _five_ minutes to recover from my nightmare, but you never listen to me...", she mumbled with a coolness that could have competed with his. "Except when I talk about gold…"

There was a long silence during which they both faced each other, but Brianna couldn't help but think that she had the upper hand in this strange silent duel. Bonnet's eyes seemed to waver, as if he admitted his responsibility in that little scene and he clearly didn't like that.

"Captain...", O’Brien insisted above them. Slowly, Bonnet stepped back without looking away from her, and disappeared from the cabin, leaving her alone.

~o~

Several hours went by before Brianna decided to leave the cabin in search of food. Lunch time was long gone, but dinner time was still far away... and Flanagan was not too keen on distributing rations outside hours. But she was starving. She was going down to the pantry, when she heard Bonnet's voice somewhere in the corridor. Brianna swore under her breath and rushed into a maze of big crates – probably full of food – crouching behind one of them. She didn’t want to see Bonnet at the moment, especially if she was going to extort food from the cook.

The pirate was not alone, Brianna could hear a second voice, deep and gravelly.

"That's why women are a problem in our profession, lad... They drive us mad and the ocean leaves no room for madness..."

Brianna's eyes widened as she recognized Murphy’s voice. But even more than the man’s identity, it was the way he spoke to his captain that surprised Brianna. He had called him _lad_ , and even if Murphy was one of the elders on the _Gloriana_ , the Bonnet she knew would never accept to be called other than ‘captain’ or ‘Sir’ in the best case scenario. She listened carefully, expecting Bonnet to call the old man to order, but the conversation went on as normally as possible.

"We've been sailing together for what... ten years now, Mr. Murphy?”, Bonnet said with a chuckle. "You have seen your share of girls going in and out of my cabin, and I never went mad..."

"Obedient, impressionable or promiscuous girls... Nothing that generally attracts your attention more than a night or two," Murphy muttered. "This girl is strong-headed, vindictive and according to the men who took part in your little grave-robbin’ in Truro, she is ridiculously fearless. In fact, she reminds me of you in some way."

"Which means…?"

Brianna could feel from Bonnet’s tone that the comparison was starting to annoy him, and yet he showed infinite patience as he let the old man pursue his explanation.

"You won’t be able to get rid of that girl, once you get tired of her. You’ll want to keep her. And that will create more problems until you take responsibility..."

 _Take responsibility?,_ Brianna repeated internally. What did Murphy mean? Bonnet on the other hand seemed to understand perfectly and Brianna heard him groan.

"Thank you for this brilliant analysis, Mr. Murphy, but if I need advice, I already have a first mate..."

Murphy let out a brief and sarcastic laughter. "Ah! O’Brien worships you, he would never dare to disagree with you..."

"And that's exactly why he’s the first mate and you are just the carpenter..." Bonnet's voice had softened and Brianna heard the two men walk away, until silence fell again in the corridor. Cautiously, she came out of her hiding place and peeked out in the corridor to make sure the way was clear. As she headed back to the pantry, she couldn't help but wonder what Murphy meant by "taking responsibility". Did he imply that Bonnet had to make a decision about her? Let her go or kill her? No, that couldn't be the second option, there wasn’t any wickedness in the old man’s voice and Bonnet would have reacted differently at that suggestion. So what?

When she got to the kitchens, she was immediately greeted by Flanagan's annoyed look, and he shook his head before she could even ask. "It is not time yet...", he declared, returning to the carrots he was preparing for the evening meal.

"But I couldn't be there for lunch! Not even breakfast!”, Brianna protested. "Technically, you owe me two rations."

Flanagan shrugged as if he didn't care, and Brianna decided to change tactics.  
"What if I helped you? That’s a hell of a lot of carrots…”

Flanagan’s sigh was so long and so deep that Brianna almost snickered. She saw the cook glance at the vegetables stack, decide that she might not be wrong or that he would not be rid of her if he didn’t give in, and finally take a knife to place it on the table next to him. Brianna immediately settled down, glad to have something useful to do, and watched what Flanagan was doing to imitate him. The man cut out the small root at the end of each carrot, then the tops, rubbed everything in a bowl of clear water and placed the vegetable and the tops on two different piles.

"Don't damage the tops... I’m using them," he said as she started to work.

"To do what?"

"When we’re ashore and I can make a fire, I make soup..."

Brianna nodded and silence fell in the kitchen, much to the young woman’s delight. Having a task to accomplish, no matter how basic it was, did her a great deal of good. And her temporary boss, although taciturn, did not seem unhappy to have an extra pair of hands. She had already sorted and washed around thirty carrots when her stomach produced a long gurgling sound, which she was about to apologize for when Flanagan reached out behind him to give her a piece of bread. The crumb was dry, but Brianna swallowed it with a smile, before returning to her work.

“Well, well, well… Flanagan has a new kitchen help!"

Brianna looked up and smiled as she saw Jimmy walking towards them, with another kid barely older than him and who was not one of the familiar faces. After all this time on the _Gloriana_ , she thought she could recognize about everyone, but not him. The young boy had brown hair and slightly almond green eyes, and unlike Jimmy who seemed to smile at everyone and in all circumstances, his comrade seemed shyer and quieter.

Jimmy followed her bewildered gaze and patted his colleague on the back, while snatching a tiny carrot to swallow it under Flanagan’s threatening gaze. "This is Finn. And if you feel like you've never seen him, it's completely normal... He’s a topman."

"A what?”, Brianna asked, frowning. Jimmy pulled out two chairs and sat down next to her, while Finn sat down on the other chair.

"A topman. They are the ones who climb up the rigging to reef the topsails. Even in the middle of a storm, they have to stay a hundred feet above the deck to make sure everything is working out well. They also serve as lookouts; the view is clear up there...”

Brianna wasn't sure she knew exactly what "reef" meant, but she got the idea. The boy was one of those you couldn't see if you didn't look up. "It must be terribly dangerous", she said and the young boy blushed.

"Yes, ma'am," he stammered, and Brianna felt herself age at least ten years in a second. “But we fly with the birds and the Lord above watches over us."

She smiled at him and he lowered his nose. Meanwhile, Flanagan had gotten up and brought the boy a full ration before returning to his task.

"The worst thing for a topman would be to fall... If they survive, they must end their career down here with the rest of us...", Jimmy laughed. "The perks of being perched above everyone is that you don’t get yelled at all day long. And _they_ have the right to eat at any time."

"You wouldn’t get yelled at if you didn't spend your time messin’ around, lad...", Flanagan mumbled as Jimmy gobbled up another small carrot and laughed.

"Good point..."

"Are there many of you up there?", Brianna asked Finn, but Jimmy didn't listen to the answer. A movement had caught his eye in the corridor and he froze when he saw his captain staring at them from under his tricorn hat. He vaguely heard Flanagan speak, then Brianna’s laughter, and the pirate's expression darkened again. Jimmy felt a hint of sadness as he understood why the captain looked so down in the dumps, just as his heart had panicked when he had leaned over the rail this morning and caught the captain quarreling with his young lady. But O'Brien's words still echoed in his brain. _It's none of your business, James_...

However, he felt like it _was_ his business. Captain Bonnet had welcomed him aboard and had always been fair to him, as to all of the crew members. It was normal to return the favor. "Hey, captain! Are you hungry?”, Jimmy asked cheerfully, ignoring the fact that Brianna had jumped out of her skin and sent him a look of sheer panic.

Bonnet emerged from the shadows and approached the table as Brianna bit her lip, trying hard to focus on her work. Jimmy nabbed a biscuit from Finn's ration – who protested with a feeble ‘hey’ – and handed it to the pirate. As Bonnet refused the biscuit, Jimmy shrugged and gobbled it up under his friend's eyes. "You shouldn’t eat those anyway, or you might bend the yard when climbing on it...", he mocked, as Finn moved his plate away from the young thief.

"Don't you have better things to do than harassing poor Mr. Flanagan?", Bonnet asked the cabin boy. The captain had a gentle smile that Brianna had never seen, even in his best days. Flanagan raised an eyebrow as if he too was eager to know the answer.

"I finished my shift, I wanted to eat with Finn before going to sleep for a while..." Jimmy stretched his arms towards the ceiling and yawned. "And Miss Brianna was already harassing him before I got there."

"I came here to help...", she grumbled without looking up from her carrots.

Flanagan smiled mockingly. "And eat..."

"Speaking of which..." As fast as lightning, Jimmy reached out for a carrot, but Flanagan was surprisingly quicker and slapped him on the back of his hand. “All right, all right... I'm going to bed...", he laughed, massaging his sore hand. He got up from his seat and after looking insistently at Brianna – who did not understand immediately why he was staring at her – he turned to Bonnet. "Do you want to sit down, captain? I’ll leave you my seat."

Brianna’s eyes widened and before she could find a way out, Bonnet jumped on the opportunity and replaced the cabin boy by her side. _Carrots... focus on those damn carrots..._ , she repeated to herself like a mantra, as the pirate turned to Finn eating his ration.

"How's Ryan doin’ up there? Is he holdin’ up?"

"His shoulder still hurts a bit, captain, but he can work...", the young boy replied.

He and Bonnet engaged in a conversation about the state of the masts and ropes, but Brianna was no longer able to listen to a single word. She had not seen him since their morning quarrel and was rather uncomfortable in his presence. Although he always made a point to have the last word, he had left the cabin and a tension now remained between them. She had just cut a few carrot tops and was about to put them on the stack with the others, when Bonnet's left hand reached out and rested on her lower back. She straightened up, wondering what he was going to do, when she felt the pirate's fingers gently caress the fabric, in an almost... comforting way?

Brianna turned her head to him and he gave her an unusual look. Sweet, sheepish, as if... _as if asking for my forgiveness?_ She blinked and after a long hesitation, smiled weakly. As if that was enough for him, he immediately turned his attention back to his conversation with the young topman, without withdrawing his hand.

It was still there when the carrots were entirely sorted out, and Flanagan rewarded his assistant with one of the vegetables. Brianna grabbed it and took a bite with a delighted smile. However, this moment of satisfaction was brief, as they suddenly heard a sailor scream in the corridors.

"Captain! Captain!"

Brianna had gotten so used to the light pressure of Bonnet’s hand on her back that she was almost surprised when it disappeared. The sailor entered the pantry as Bonnet rose from his chair, ready to listen to what would certainly be bad news.

"Ah! Captain”, repeated the sailor as he caught sight of him. "We have a problem... It looks like at least two men are sick. They are trembling with fever."

 _The flu…,_ Brianna thought immediately, getting up as well. It had been two days since they left Truro, the average time it took for symptoms to appear after infection. As Bonnet rushed out after his employee, Brianna ate the rest of her carrot in one mouthful and followed the pirate to the steerage, where two men were kneeling, as pale as death. The first was a member of the crew and the other was one of MacNamara's henchmen, Shaughnessy.

"I had specifically requested not to mingle with the population...", Bonnet growled, stopping at a good distance. To his right, two other sailors armed with sabers pushed a third frightened man in the middle of the circle.

"Jake and I got out before you warned us about the epidemic... We had no idea!”, he whined, pointing at his colleague.

"You should have reported it immediately!"

"But Captain, you would have left us in Truro and we wouldn’t have had our share of the treasure!", protested the other man, holding out his arms.

Bonnet’s eyes flashed and the man shrank slightly. "Taking the risk to make us all sick?" He turned to the sailors holding the sabers. "Throw them overboard."

The sick screamed with dread, but MacNamara's other henchman, Mulligan, drew a flintlock pistol from his belt and pointed it straight at Bonnet's forehead, cocking the hammer with a creepy clicking sound. “Give the counter-order immediately."

"Or what?", Bonnet drawled coldly.

"Our employer sent us to watch over you and I don't think he would be pleased to know how easily you got rid of one of us..."

"In that case, I’d better get rid of the _both_ of you..."

"All right, now everybody calm down!", Brianna barked, stepping between Bonnet and the weapon Mulligan was pointing at him. "It's only a flu, if we isolate the sick and protect the weak, everything will be fine!"

"We will be fine too, if we feed those three to the sharks!”, one of the sailors yelled, and the others whispered in approval.

"Think about it," she said, spreading her arms and trying to ignore the gun’s barrel still aimed right at her. "You've been living with these three men for two days, some of you are probably already infected. And then what? We’ll throw every sick man overboard until there are not enough of you left?"

The sailors exchanged worried glances, looking for any sign of the disease among them.

"I had the flu countless times in my childhood and my mother is a healer, I can tell you how to take care of each other until everyone is cured. We don't need to throw people overboard as if they had the plague!"

Still raising her arms, Brianna turned to Bonnet, her eyes begging him to listen. But he and Mulligan were still glaring at each other. "Sorry, sweetheart, I'm not convinced...", he said after a few seconds of silence.

Mulligan groaned and before anyone could react, grabbed Brianna's arm with his free hand and drew her against him, pressing the gun’s barrel to her temple. The young woman held her breath, trying not to move an inch. "Perhaps _this_ will convince you, Captain Bonnet."

The pirate's eyes became so dark and threatening that any normal human being would have ran like hell. But obviously, Mulligan was not normal. _Or not human_..., Brianna thought, the cold contact of the metal against her head making her shudder. She vaguely heard Mulligan speak again, but her ears were buzzing so loudly that she couldn't understand the meaning of his words. It was only when he shook her violently, pressing the gun a little harder against her head, that she regained consciousness. "What shall we do, lass? Please explain everything to your dear captain... And be convincing this time."

Brianna felt weak in her knees, but Mulligan held her so tight against him that she couldn't have fallen anyway. Her lips trembled slightly and she closed her eyes to think about an answer. "We must separate the sick..."

"You already said that...", Mulligan growled, shaking her again and causing Bonnet and all the sailors to flinch by reflex.

"Old people are most at risk of suffering from serious symptoms... They must stay away. As for the others, a scarf in front of the nose and mouth can help... We must stay a few meters away from each other, as much as possible, and not touch our face with our hands... As for the sick, the fever can last between two and four days. Dehydration is a major risk. We will have to ration the water so that everyone with a fever can drink enough, but we can make it through. We _will_ make it through."

"Do you hear that, Captain Bonnet?", Mulligan whispered with a wicked smile. "We will make it through. So if I were you, I would do as she says."

Brianna saw Bonnet clench his fists. Mulligan was a dead man. Tomorrow, in ten days or in ten years, the pirate would get justice for this insult to his authority and the henchman would regret his actions. But not right now.

"Mr. Doherty...", Bonnet called without looking away from Mulligan and the weapon he was still aiming at Brianna. The quartermaster immediately moved forward, standing straight next to his captain. "Do we have an empty hold?"

"Yes, captain, the tobacco hold is empty since Philadelphia," Doherty said immediately with all the confidence he was capable of despite the situation.

"Send the sick there. And I want everyone who does not feel good in the coming days to go there without delay..."

"You heard the captain?”, the boatswain barked to the three kneeling sailors. "Move it, fellas!"

The three of them got to their feet and, supporting each other, took the direction of the tobacco hold. Mulligan watched them walk away with a satisfied look and finally lowered his pistol. Brianna, who had mostly been in apnea since the gun had touched her head, took a deep breath, and Mulligan heaved her forward. She thought for a moment that she was going to fall flat on her face, but Bonnet's arms caught her at the last second. She didn't even protest when he pressed her hard against his chest, as she was too happy to be rid of the _other_ psychopath.

"Mr. Doherty?", she asked in a shaky voice and the quartermaster turned to her, nodding. "Do you have oranges, lemons or any kind of citrus fruits in stock?"

The young man thought for a moment, then nodded again. "Yes, a few crates of oranges, why?"

"I will need them for the sick," she said, as Bonnet released her gently.

"Do you know how much these fruits cost? I won’t let them go to waste… What good would it do to them anyway?"

"A lot! Oranges are full of…” She pursed her lips and shook her head. Explaining what vitamins were would be far too long and they would probably accuse her of witchcraft anyway. "Whatever, this is a healer's thing. Just trust me, for once."

Bonnet glanced briefly at his quartermaster to let him know that he accepted her request. "I seem to be doing that a lot, lately..."

"That’s a good thing, you’re getting wiser," Brianna snapped back. She turned again to the quartermaster. "I will need soap and fresh water too... Sea water, that won’t be difficult to find. Clean cloths and also…”

Bonnet turned away from her to glare at Mulligan. If that damned son of a bitch thought he had won the war, he was seriously mistaken. But the fact that he had challenged his authority on his own ship was not the only problem. He had used Brianna to get to him and it had worked. Too much for his liking. The old Murphy had been right this morning: the mere presence of the young woman on the ship would become a problem if he did not make a clear statement about her. If it were rumored that he surrendered as soon as anyone laid a finger on his prisoner, he would soon have an army of privateers after him. And he could say goodbye to his credibility (and his business).

Someone suddenly waved a hand in his field of vision and he blinked several times before meeting Brianna's eyes. "You weren't listening, were you?”, she asked without a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Sorry..."

"No problem. I was just asking who were your oldest crew members and if it was possible to isolate them for a while, give them individual tasks far from the others..."

"I'll see what I can do," he said, still looking a bit lost, until two cool hands squeezed his.

"Everything will be fine..." Brianna smiled at him and he frowned, wondering if she had read his mind. "It's just the flu, it could be worse."

For a moment, he really considered telling her that he wasn't only worried about the flu, but before he could make up his mind, she had let his hands go and had followed Doherty down to the holds.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Brianna is feeling guilty enjoying Stephen's company so much and losing sight of her mission. Of course, the fateful date is still far away, but she can't help but think about it... And the pirate's temper doesn't help. What did you think of that cute hand on her back? I pictured him with the same sheepish look he gives her on the show when she visits him in prison. (my heaaaaart </3) Anyway, our heroes will definitely be in trouble soon with Mulligan using Brianna against Bonnet. And also…. There’s the flu…**

**I can't wait to read your comments on this chapter and as always, I wish you a great week! See you next Monday!**

**Xérès**


	11. Seo é d'amhrán

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Happy Monday everyone !! As you can imagine, this chapter will focus entirely on the flu epidemic... I wrote it during lockdown and it shows haha. Bonnet will be low-key questioning himself after Brianna's nightmare, and her dedication to his sick men will definitely change his behavior for the better! Hope you enjoy this chapter, I can't wait to hear from you!**

**Thanks all of you who read and commented !**

**oOo**

  1. _Seo é d'amhrán_ (Your song)



Four days had passed since the first three men had got sick on the _Gloriana_ and Brianna had to admit that even if she had been girding for the worst, she had not imagined that the situation would become so dramatic. Both of Bonnet’s crew members were doing quite well, and after two terrible fever spikes, their condition had gradually improved. Which was a good thing, because new patients had quickly flocked to the tobacco hold and without the two recovering sailors’ help, she would never have been able to hold out. As for the third ‘patient zero’, Shaughnessy, his condition was getting worse every hour and the fever never went down. He also had a very bad cough, indicating that the disease had damaged his lung function.

About fifteen men soon piled up in the hold and Brianna started to fear for her own health, despite all the precautions she observed: a scarf tied around her face, washing hands after each contact with a patient... But the virus was spreading too fast and she would soon be overwhelmed. She had prepared a mixture of water and orange juice to avoid dehydration and ensure a supply in vitamins, she served them cookies, nuts and berries to fill their stomachs, and also provided them with seawater to rinse their sinuses or refresh the cloths they put on their foreheads. And when she took a break to sleep or eat, she would first completely soak into a tub filled with water, scrubbed herself with soap, changed her clothes and washed everything thoroughly.

She was particularly concerned about Mr. Murphy’s condition; he had arrived among the last and his old age placed him at the top of the list of potential victims. Bonnet clearly shared her concern, because he had come several times to inquire about his health, but she had reassured him and chased him away.

She had just gone to bed on the corridor floor, near the tobacco hold, when someone screamed inside and she got up again. "Miss Brianna! We have a problem here!"

Brianna rushed into the hold. Even through her scarf, the stench was unbearable: a mix of perspiration, feces and vomit. Amidst the shivering, curled up bodies, she saw Boyle kneeling near Shaughnessy. The young sailor had not arrived among the firsts, but his youth and his good constitution had allowed him to assist Brianna from the inside. MacNamara's minion, on the other hand, was in bad shape. A purring sound came from his ribcage, and you could almost hear the liquid in his lungs going up and down with every breath he took. And the fever had been going up for four days now... The man suddenly coughed and spat a spray of blood in front of him and on Brianna's skirts, his eyes widened and he desperately tried to breathe again. His hands and feet shook violently for a moment, as he opened his mouth uncovering his bloodstained teeth. A disgusting gurgling sound rose from his lungs and Brianna realized there was nothing left to be done. The man must have had a lung problem long before he got the flu, and the virus had simply accelerated the process. She had just come to this conclusion when the man shuddered one last time. A trickle of blood flowed between his lips and his gaze froze, in an expression of intense horror and pain.

Boyle dropped the body to the floor and closed his eyelids, while Brianna pressed two fingers to his burning neck looking for a pulse. She straightened up and shook her head. Around them, some sailors crossed themselves and Boyle got to his feet. "Do you need help carrying him outside?", he asked, aware that it would not be good for the other patients’ spirits to keep a corpse among them.

Brianna nodded slowly. "Right out of the hold, I had prepared some space in case someone would-..." She closed her eyes. "I had hoped we would not need it."

Boyle gave her a sad look, before reaching down to grab Shaughnessy's arms. Brianna grabbed his feet and they carried the dead man to the place Brianna had talked about. This was only temporary anyway. According to tradition, sailors were to rest in the depths of the ocean. Brianna breathed in deeply in her improvised mask, sweat running down her forehead. She had to fight the urge not to wipe it with the back of her hand.

"Thanks...", she told Boyle. "I'll come back later with orange juice... Please go back inside."

Boyle obeyed and Brianna was left alone again. She spent about two minutes contemplating Shaughnessy's body and felt her eyes fill with tears. She didn’t like the man but he was the first to die and she experienced it as a failure. Suddenly, she understood some of her mother's reactions when she came back from surgery. As a teenage girl, Brianna had never understood Claire’s tendency to mentally berate herself after every patient she failed to save, but she did now. When you fought every hour of every day to save lives and failed, it was hard not to question yourself.

She pulled out her mask and plunged her hands into a bucket of clean seawater, scrubbing her fingers, and her forearms to the elbows, then did the same with her face. Seizing the dirty water bucket, she went back upstairs, shouting to announce herself in the corridors. The sailors had received orders to leave as soon as they heard her voice. She walked up to the railing, where a rope had been installed for her to collect water from the ocean, and tried to tie the handle of the bucket to it, but her trembling hands no longer responded. The bucket swung into the ocean under her dismayed gaze and she felt her eyes sting.

"Shit! Jesus… Fuck!”, she barked, punching her fists against the railing as the bucket already disappeared far behind the ship. She clapped her hands over her face and dropped onto her knees, exhausted.

She heard someone running towards her and looked up. Jimmy was staring at her, with panic in his eyes, his arm already outstretched towards her blouse. "Miss Brianna, are you bleeding?"

Brianna didn't understand what he meant at first, but when Jimmy's fingers brushed against her garment, stained with Shaughnessy’s blood, she panicked and violently slapped the young boy's hand away. "Don’t touch it!”, she yelled, crawling backwards and out of his reach. "It's not my blood. Go wash your hands. Now!”

She had screamed so loudly that the boy jumped and fled immediately. Brianna got to her feet and looked down. Shaughnessy hadn’t just spat on her skirt. The entire front of her blouse was speckled with droplets of blood and she swore again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bonnet approach and stop three or four meters away from her, looking worried. "Whose blood is it?”, he asked darkly.

Brianna pursed her lips and looked to her left. Mulligan was watching them and Bonnet followed her gaze, understanding what had happened. But the henchman did too.

"You filthy witch… what did you do to him?", Mulligan barked, stepping threateningly towards the young woman.

"His condition worsened every day! Your colleague probably had weak lungs, but I did everything I could to help him!”, Brianna retorted. "I was by his side until he drew his last breath, and he probably infected me!" She gestured to the blood on her outfit and Mulligan took a few steps back. "So don't come here and accuse me of killing him, or I swear I will spit in your goddamn face."

The man seemed to understand that she was serious and upset because he moved away quickly. When he was gone, Brianna let out a heartbreaking sigh and waved her hand towards the ocean. "And I lost my bloody bucket..."

"I'll bring you another one," Bonnet said quickly. He hadn't moved from where he was, but Brianna was dying to throw herself into his arms. But she shouldn’t – no, she couldn’t – take that risk. The _Gloriana_ needed its captain.

She nodded with a sad smile, before her legs wobbled, and she would have fallen on the floor if she hadn’t caught the railing. "Wow."

"When did you last sleep?"

Brianna shook her head. "I don't know... I was about to when Shaughnessy..."

"Go to bed. I'll bring the buckets down,” he ordered. "You can take my cabin."

"No! I’ve arranged a cosy little place near the hold, so that I can hear them if necessary. I’ll be fine,” she added, as he opened his mouth to negotiate. "This time, you can’t throw me over your shoulder and make me go there, anyway..."

"Do not tempt me…"

They smiled at each other and Brianna went back to the holds, eager to take off her soiled clothes, wash herself and fall asleep for a few hours. She had a bad feeling. Fatigue was probably responsible for her dizziness, but she also felt a bit feverish and had a stomach ache. The mystery was solved, however, when she undressed to wash and saw a few drops of blood inside her petticoat. _Oh great..._ , she grumbled, rubbing the fresh blood under cold water. But the fact that her symptoms were only due to her period and not the flu reassured her somewhat. Still sighing from time to time, she finished washing, dried herself and put on clean clothes before hanging the others to dry. Then, she dropped onto her improvised bed and closed her eyes, falling asleep immediately.

She couldn't have said how long she had slept, as it seemed it had lasted barely a second, but the night had plunged the ship into darkness when she woke up. A lamp had been placed a little further down the corridor, with six buckets of clean seawater. She hadn’t even heard anyone bring them. Straightening up on her seat, she winced as she felt her lower abdomen contract painfully and readjusted the thick cloth she had slipped between her thighs to absorb the blood. No one could know she was menstruating. It was already a delicate subject for twentieth century men… Confronting superstitious eighteenth century sailors to the question was pure madness.

Her nap had been reinvigorating and she left her bed, as she heard footsteps in the corridor. Jimmy was approaching, looking tired and ashamed.

"Jimmy, what are you doing here?”, she asked gently. "Stay away..."

"I think I'm sick, Miss Brianna...", he said weakly. "It's my fault, I touched your blouse earlier..."

Brianna stepped forward and put her clean hand on the boy's forehead. He had a fever and watery eyes. "If you are sick now, it means you were infected at least two days ago... not today. I’m afraid you’ll have to join the others inside..."

Jimmy nodded. "I haven't approached anyone in the past few days so nobody should be sick because of me, right?”, he asked as she smiled and shook her head. "Everyone follows your instructions up there, there weren't many new patients... except for me."

"It’s all right, Jimmy... Really, it is. You’re young, you will recover in no time."

She saw him look down at Shaughnessy's feet in the corner, half covered with a simple sheet. Jimmy paled dangerously and she pushed him towards the hold to avoid a panic attack. Then she went back to fetch the fresh water buckets and put them inside before collecting the empty ones. The sailors rushed to soak their clothes, before pressing them on their burning foreheads.

"I emptied the buckets of ordure while you slept, Miss, you've done more than enough for us today...", Boyle joked as he helped Jimmy to settle next to him.

Brianna frowned. "It’s not safe, how did you get out?"

"I didn't see anyone and I didn't touch anything, I swear on the Holy Cross...", he smirked. "You were sound asleep, I didn't want to wake you up..."

A disturbing cough caught their attention and Brianna turned away, kneeling beside Mr. Murphy and putting a hand on his forehead. He didn't have as much fever as the first couple of days, but he was very weak. "How are you feeling, Mr. Murphy?"

"Too bad to politely describe it to a lady...", he coughed, bringing his blanket over his shoulders.

"But well enough to keep talking nonsense...", finished Brianna with a smile. "I will bring you food and drink very soon. The worst is over, now you need to regain your strength." She turned to the healthier sailors: "We are going to let some fresh air in before you eat. Please open the...", she gestured towards the shutters that closed the openings in the hull and cursed herself for never being able to remember all the words she had been hearing almost daily for weeks.

"The gun ports, Miss Fraser...", Boyle answered as he already had at least ten times in the past three days.

"Technically, the gun port is the opening itself...", added another sailor. "The part that closes the port is just a lid."

"And I will probably forget all of that again in a minute...", Brianna muttered, going out to get the sailors' snacks.

When she came back, a pleasant cool breeze was blowing the stench to the outside of the ship and she breathed in deeply. The most feverish sailors had wrapped themselves in their blankets so as not to get too cold, while the others stretched their noses in the draft, glad to breathe something other than the foul air of their prison. Boyle was wrapping Jimmy in two blankets and laying him in a corner, as Brianna began to distribute rations of orange juice and water. One of the men suddenly rushed to one of the open ports and vomited loudly on the other side.

"All right, a double ration of water for you, Mr. Lowett...", Brianna said, putting two ladles of drink in the poor man's bowl.

"Thank you, Miss...", he stammered, recovering his property.

"Can _I_ have two rations as well?", Boyle asked with a broad smile. "I've been a good lad."

"Nice try...", Brianna retorted, throwing a bag of cookies at him. "Give this to everyone, please."

Boyle obeyed, still smiling. "At your service, Captain Fraser."

~o~

In the following twenty-four hours, the first sailors to recover could leave the hold, emaciated and tired but happy. Brianna had prepared tubs so that each cured man would not leave the hold without a complete change of clothes and a bath. Unfortunately, contrary to what she had expected, Jimmy did not seem to resist as well as other young people. His back ached so much that he now had a lumbago, causing him to cry out in pain with each movement. He vomited every single drop of water he drank and he was almost constantly delirious. When Boyle and the other sailors who had arrived just before him left, Brianna had refused to let them come back and help her. The crew, which had been reduced for almost a week by more than twenty sailors, was probably exhausted and they would need all the men available up there. In addition, she had only five patients left to watch, which was far less than what she had managed at the peak of the epidemic. Murphy was slowly recovering, but she was confident about his survival chances. Another sixty-year-old man, however, hadn't been so lucky and had died silently in the middle of the night, carried off by the fever. Fortunately, poor Jimmy was too delirious to notice, and even when two already cured sailors came to take the body away, he did not even look up at them.

Later that evening, when she came up to collect some fresh water, Brianna found the sailors on deck. Two lifeless bodies were laying on the floor, tightly wrapped in their hammocks. According to tradition, the fabric was sewn around them, the last stitch passing through the lower lip, sealing the mouth which would no longer speak. In addition to its symbolic value, this technique also made sure that the sailor was actually dead.

As she did not want to disturb them in their ceremony, Brianna hid in a corner and watched Bonnet say a few words in honor of each man, then one of the sailors tinkled the poop deck bell. A few moments later, the bodies of Sully Shaughnessy and old Jack Kincaid were falling into the ocean. As the sailors returned to their posts, Brianna walked over to the railing where the captain was still standing and smiled sadly, while remaining at a safe distance.

"How are the last ones?", he asked darkly. "And Mr. Murphy?"

"He's feeling better, he won't be able to work for a while, but he will be fine... They are all doing better, actually. Except Jimmy.” She looked down, unable to hide her concern. "I’m just drawing water and I’ll go back to him." Bonnet's relieved expression at that moment was so obvious that she couldn't help but ask: "Mr. Murphy means a lot to you, doesn't he?"

The pirate smiled briefly. "He's annoying, grumpy and stubborn... In other words, he's the father I never had."

"Yeah, there is definitely a family resemblance...", Brianna quipped, sending her bucket down to the waves. She pulled it up by the strength of her arms, wincing at the effort and ignoring the protests from her lower back. "I have to go back, now."

She went down into the depths of the _Gloriana_ , shrugging suddenly when a shiver ran down her spine. The air must have freshened up with the coming night and she was too scarcely dressed for the outside breeze. Back in the hold, Murphy was leaning over young Jimmy looking worried. The port-lids were open to change the air inside the hold, and she shivered one more time.

"He's burning up again...", Murphy murmured as he readjusted a wet cloth on the boy's forehead. "But he woke up a few minutes ago."

"Miss… Bree…", the teenager articulated with a weak smile.

"I gave him a drink, but he threw it up right away...", the carpenter added, as Brianna sat on the floor next to Jimmy.

"We have to cool him down...", she muttered, touching the boy’s face. He was literally boiling from the inside. "Give me the water.” Dipping other cloths in sea water, she slipped them under Jimmy's clothes to spread them against his chest. The cabin boy winced and she felt him twitch, straightening up just enough to reach the bucket of ordure and add a new flow of sour bile. Brianna wondered how he could still have anything to throw up. When he laid down again, he rested his head on his nurse's thighs, folding his shivering knees against his stomach.

"Hopefully this will be the last fever peak... If there is another one after that...", the young woman murmured, while Murphy handed her other wet cloths.

"Miss Bree..."

Brianna looked down at the boy's pale, sweaty face and pushed back a few wicks of hair stuck on his forehead. "What?"

"I would like... you to sing..."

Murphy looked up at Brianna, wondering what the kid was talking about and the young woman sighed. She had no desire to sing. Her closest friend on the _Gloriana_ was in critical condition and he wanted her to sing? How the hell was she supposed to find the strength to do that?

"Please...", the cabin boy whined again. "Remember what my sister said..."

Stroking the boy's hair, Brianna tried to smile reassuringly. "I remember."

Against her thigh, she felt Jimmy's whole body shake, but the damp cloths seemed to be doing their job and his skin was gradually cooling. So she began to think about a song she could sing, something that would not be joyful, but still comforting. A song imposed itself on her mind, a sacred sailor’s hymn, and even if it would not be composed before at least a hundred years, she decided that she would take little risk of changing the course of History if she sang it to an audience of four sick men.

Still stroking Jimmy's head, she leaned her back against the hull and took a long breath.

" _Eternal Father, strong to save, whose arm does bind the restless wave, who bids the mighty ocean deep, its own appointed limits keep; O hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril on the sea.  
O Savior, whose almighty word, the winds and waves submissive heard, who walked upon the foaming deep, and calm amid the rage did sleep; O hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril on the sea._"

Around them, the other men looked down for a moment, realizing that she was singing a religious song dedicated specifically to sailors. Murphy attentively looked at her for a moment, as if he was searching this unknown song through his memory, but a shadow at the entrance caught his attention. Bonnet's face, covered with a scarf, had appeared in the doorframe. The captain and his carpenter exchanged a heavy look and Murphy slowly shook his head in Jimmy’s direction. Brianna was still singing.

“ _O Holy Spirit, who did brood, upon the waters dark and rude, and bid their angry tumult cease, and give for wild confusion peace; O hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril on the sea.  
O Trinity of love and pow’r, your children shield in danger’s hour; from rock and tempest, fire, and foe, protect them where-so-e’er they go; Thus, evermore shall rise to Thee, glad hymns of praise from land and sea._"

Under her hand, Jimmy had fallen asleep, still trembling, and Brianna felt her throat tighten. If a God existed, how could he dare to take back the life of a young boy who had already suffered the loss of a sister and the rejection of his parents before he even turned fourteen? Was that divine justice? She wiped a tear with her shoulder and looked up at Murphy, who was staring at something outside the hold.

"What are you doing here?”, she cried when she saw Bonnet in the entrance.

"I was worried...", he said, but she dismissed his excuse with a wave of her hand.

"For the love of God, you can’t stay here, your men need you up there, not puking your guts in a hold!"

"I have to admit she's right, captain... You shouldn't be here," Murphy added, standing up. The pirate's gaze lingered for a few seconds on his surrogate father’s emaciated figure and Brianna saw his face grow pale with concern.

"Be reasonable, the epidemic is coming to an end... Everything will be back to normal soon, you just have to wait...", she begged.

Bonnet stared at her for a long time, before looking at Jimmy’s prostrate figure on Brianna’s legs, his carpenter's determined expression despite his physical weakness and the confident looks of the other two remaining patients. He nodded briefly. "Take care of yourselves. All of you."

The occupants of the hold thanked him in unison and after a last glance at Brianna, he turned his back on them and left.

~o~

When Jimmy finally opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the smiling face of the old carpenter, sitting nearby. To say that he felt good was a bit of an overstatement, but he was no longer shaking, his head was clear... and he was starving.

"How are you feeling, lad?"

Jimmy straightened up slowly, realizing that he had been sleeping on someone's legs.

"Much better, Mr. Murphy... How long have I slept?"

"Long enough for the sun to set and rise again... She watched over you most of the night."

Jimmy sat up with all the precautions in the world, regretfully leaving Brianna's lap. She was sound asleep, her head wedged against the hull and the boy felt his heart tighten, when he saw how tired she looked.

"You should wake her up," said Murphy in a soft voice. "She will be happy to know that you are feeling better and that she can go to sleep in a more comfortable place."

Jimmy nodded and reached for Brianna's shoulder, shaking it gently. "Miss Brianna... Wake up...", he said with a smile. But that smile fell abruptly when instead of waking up, she slowly slid sideways along the hull, until her head hit the ground with a dull noise. Jimmy crawled on his knees to put a hand on her forehead, as he had seen her do. Under his palm, the young woman’s skin was unbelievably warm. Behind him, Murphy got up.

"She has a fever, Mr. Murphy...", Jimmy whined in terror.

"This is what happens when you play guardian angel...", the old man grumbled, helping Jimmy to lie her down. He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I was supposed to leave today, my five days have passed. I'm going to wash up and tell the captain."

Jimmy nodded hastily as he untied the scarf Brianna wore around her neck to plunge it in one of the last buckets of clean seawater. Murphy went to the corridor, while one of the other two remaining sailors handed him the empty buckets.

"You have to find the orange juice she gave us. Do you know where she kept it, Mr. Murphy?”, asked the sailor.

The old man shook his head. "I will have to find by myself.” And without further ado, he left the tobacco hold.

Discarding his dirty clothes, the carpenter went to the large tubs and saw Brianna had had time to prepare them for the next round before taking care of Jimmy. He scrupulously rubbed his entire body before putting on clean clothes and stopped for a moment to catch his breath. This damn flu had weakened him and moving quickly for a few minutes already made his head spin. Gathering his last strength, he went upstairs, looking for the captain. Bonnet was on the upper deck and talked to O'Brien steering the ship. Murphy climbed the few steps and his expression was enough for both men to understand something was wrong.

"Jimmy?”, Bonnet asked, remembering the boy's condition when he had come the day before. Behind Murphy, at the bottom of the stairs, Boyle had come running and was waiting for the carpenter's answer.

"No. It's her…"

Bonnet immediately darted towards the stairs, but Murphy's fists closed on his collar to stop him.

"I’ll go!”, Boyle said from the steerage. "You can't be sick twice!"

And without waiting for an answer, the young man went down to the tobacco hold, jumping the last four steps of the main staircase. In a few tens of seconds, he had reached his destination.

"I can't wake her up..." Jimmy's voice was shaky and Boyle knelt next to him, swearing loudly as he placed his palm on Brianna's face.

"Let’s put her into a tub.” Sliding his arms under Brianna's body, Boyle lifted her from the ground and carried her out of the hold.

"What are you doing?"

Murphy had just barged into the corridor, closely followed by Bonnet, who had decided to ignore any advice given to him.

Boyle pulled Brianna up against his chest. "We have to bring the fever down, if we put her directly in the water..."

"Her body could shut down, fool..." The old man motioned for him to put the young woman back on the ground, but the captain intervened.

"Give her to me," he barked, holding out his hands. But his sailor seemed to hesitate for a second and Bonnet narrowed his eyes. "This is an order, Mr. Boyle."

At the sight of his threatening look, the sailor transferred Brianna's body into the captain's arms, while Murphy groaned ostensibly. "Captain..."

"If any of you repeats one more time that I’m taking unnecessary risks, you’ll all end up in the bloody ocean...", Bonnet growled, taking Brianna to his cabin. "Bring me fresh sea water, food and drink, and tell O’Brien that when he's tired, he can leave the helm to the apprentice helmsman.”

He glanced one last time at the three sailors and muttered: "As for me, I'm no longer here, for anyone."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**What did you think of this chapter ?? Our worried little Bonnet was so cute… I really enjoyed writing all the scenes with Mr. Murphy, the old man has more and more respect for Bree. In the next chapter, it will be Stephen's turn to play doctor… and we will finally arrive in the Caribbean, in Sint-Eustatius, not far from treasure island! I can assure you that poor Brianna will not to forget this stopover before long... But that’s all I can say for now!**

**I can't wait to read your comments and wish you a good week! See you next Monday!**

**Xérès**


	12. An Innis Àigh

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Happy Monday everyone! This chapter is a little longer than the previous one and for good reason, there is a lot going on here! After twelve days of sailing and a well-controlled epidemic (thanks to Brianna), the _Gloriana_ makes its last stop before Treasure Island! Bonnet has definitely become aware of something about Brianna and his attitude will start to change little by little… But first of all, let's see how our dear captain is doing as a nurse… **

**Thanks to everyone who read and commented last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one!**

**oOo**

  1. _An Innis Àigh_ (The Happy Island)



Bonnet carefully laid Brianna on the bunk, while Boyle and Murphy brought him what he had asked for. As soon as they were alone again, he took off a few garments to leave her only in her blouse and petticoats, then soaked all the cloths available in cold water. As he spread them on her chest, her stomach, he felt her move under his fingers. Breathing in violently, her body suddenly became aware of the cold, and she opened her eyes wide for a few seconds, in shock. Her pupils frantically searched the area before falling on the pirate and she immediately tried to get out of his reach.

"You're going to... get sick...", she whimpered, as Bonnet ignored her, trying to keep her quiet. But she used her last forces to get away from him, causing the damp cloths to fall.

Exasperated, Bonnet grabbed Brianna by the hips and slid her back into her initial position. And before she could get away from him again, he leaned over her lips and kissed her, holding her tightly against him. Brianna struggled for another nanosecond, and surrendered. She had neither the strength nor the will to escape their first kiss since the start of the epidemic. Maybe the fever was making her delirious, but his lips seemed sweeter than ever. And she was almost disappointed when they disappeared from her mouth.

“There! Come what may. You can stop wriggling like a worm, now."

Brianna fell back on the pillow while her brain put together the pieces of the latest events. "Jimmy?... How is he...?"

"Much better..."

Brianna smiled with relief and closed her eyes. She could feel her eyelids were unusually warm on her eyeballs and vaguely wondered what a thermometer would read if she had one. _I must drink..._ Without realizing that Bonnet had just put all the cloths back on her skin, she straightened up, obsessed with her idea of getting hydrated. The pirate narrowed his eyes.

"You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?"

"I am thirsty…"

With infinite patience, he reached out to a bucket of water and orange juice to fill a bowl, which she half-drank with small sips. A massive shiver ran down her spine and she put the bowl down, before going back to bed. Immediately, the pirate's hands worked to put the cloths back under her blouse and Brianna could not help but smile despite the fatigue and back pain. "Maybe I did it on purpose just to have you grope me again…", she chuckled, just before she winced again in pain. Her whole back was more tensed than ever and she felt her body shiver. She had had the flu a few times in Boston, but this particular flu was definitely one of the worsts she had experienced. And even if she feared to infect Bonnet, she wouldn't have traded him for any other nurse in the world.

After about twelve hours of respite, during which Brianna had been able to rest and swallow a few cookies, the following day had been a living nightmare. The second fever peak, typical of influenzas, had started. Her whole body was covered in sweat, sometimes icy, sometimes hot, and she felt like she was constantly going from the Turkish bath to the refrigerator. When the room around her started spinning and the chills intensified, she knew about three seconds before it happened that she was going to vomit. Suddenly straightening out of the bunk, she grabbed an empty bucket and puked her meager meal and all the water she had hardly managed to drink. Vomiting had been a relief and she thought that the fever had slightly dropped. But that was only an impression.

A few minutes later, she was suffocating again, and sometimes heard sounds that seemed to come from her own mouth, although she could not be sure. Every time she stirred or moaned, she also felt Bonnet move around her, bringing her water, dampening more cloths. Brianna had completely lost track of time and soon, her existence was only punctuated by the pirate's recurring actions.

After one last restless night, she finally woke up at dawn. Exhausted and hungry, but lucid and judging by the absence of chills, sweat and aches, the fever had finally broken. Beside her, Bonnet was still sleeping soundly and she quietly left the bunk to drink something and wash. She could smell herself and wondered how anyone could handle that stench. Silently, she took off her clothes and emptied the last buckets of clean water into the captain's tub. It was much too cold, but unless someone invented the water heater 145 years in advance and installed one on the _Gloriana_ , she had no other choice. The simple fact that she was able to wash was pleasant. She had just finished soaping herself when she noticed that her nurse had woken up. Bonnet approached the tub, examining her naked body with a satisfied smile.

"I take it you’re feeling better...?”, he asked, leaning over her from behind.

"Much better..." She brought her knees against her stomach out of modesty, but he pushed them away with one hand. Before running the said hand along her thigh, until it disappeared underwater. Brianna turned her head towards him and smiled. "Thank you... for taking care of me. I'm glad you’re not sick, though."

Below the surface, the venturous hand had threaded its way up to her crotch and Brianna shuddered under its touch.

"You're welcome... I feel I haven’t got my money’s worth yet, I wasn't going to let you die like that..."

She considered a witty comeback, maybe a flash of humor, but to be honest, she only wished to do one thing. Reaching out to the back of his neck, she drew his face to hers and kissed him passionately. He chuckled against her lips and his hand jerked out of the water to grab the edge of the tub and keep himself from tipping forward.

"How long before we arrive?”, she asked.

"I’d say about two days... Why?"

The young woman came out of the tub, dripping wet, and pulled on the pirate's shirt to take it off. "I think I’m not cured yet... I require close monitoring..."

She ran her hands over his chest, pulling him back to the bunk.

"I don’t know, darlin’, I have a lot of things to do, rumor has it that I have responsibilities around here...", he whispered, pretending to think. "But maybe I can send Mr. Murphy to tend for you?"

Brianna slowly shook her head, biting her lower lip to keep from smiling.

"Doherty, then?" New sign of denial. "Flanagan?” The back of his knees hit the bunk and he fell on the sheets, Brianna straddling him. She put a finger in a corner of her mouth, as if she was thinking deeply.

"Oh well, maybe O’Brien or Boyle...", she smirked, knowing full well that by mentioning two men who were younger and just as attractive as he was, he would react straight away. The pirate's playful smile fell immediately and he frowned.

"All right, you will never leave this cabin again."

Brianna laughed and leaned over his lips again. "Perfect."

~o~

Two days... Two days of ‘convalescence’ during which they had hardly left their bed. As she put on actual clothes for the first time in ages, Brianna smiled and felt her cheeks blush at that thought. Her long absence while she was tending for the sick had clearly weighed heavy on Bonnet. Or perhaps somewhere deep in his lawless pirate's heart had he been afraid of losing her? This last thought delighted her as much as it saddened her: whether or not she had won Bonnet’s heart, it did not help her in any way. Worse: it complicated a possible return to North Carolina.

With a sigh, she finished tying her waist cincher over her lightest blouse. She had also put on a simple skirt without petticoat, the first clothes the pirate had given her. They were back in the Caribbean and the outside temperature was much higher, so she had put her leather coat and other warm clothes in a chest. With Doherty's help, she had also found a pair of flat shoes in the holds, much lighter than her leather boots.

After tying up her freshly washed hair with her gold and emerald butterfly, she vigorously pinched her cheeks to give them some color. She had briefly seen her reflection in a small mirror that morning and the pallor of her complexion had almost scared her. She left the cabin and went upstairs, smiling widely as the warm Caribbean wind lifted her hair and the sides of her skirt.

"Good mornin’, miss!"

Brianna jumped and her eyes met a sailor’s. "Mr. Lowett! I’m glad you feel better!”, she said with a radiant smile.

"Thanks to you... Glad to see you up and about, too! After six days, we were gettin’ worried!"

Brianna tried not to turn crimson. Of course the sailors didn’t know that she had been feeling much better for almost forty-eight hours. "Thank you…"

She went to the upper deck, hearing at least three or four cheerful "Good morning, Miss!” on the way. Bonnet was at the wheel and gave a lustful look at her summer outfit, but he remained professional and refrained from any comment, aware that all eyes were on them. O'Brien, who was smoking a cigar against the railing, greeted her with a broad smile and a raised eyebrow that spoke volumes about what he thought of this long recovery. A little further on the deck, Boyle and Jimmy were busy moving heavy moorings for their upcoming arrival on Sint-Eustatius, where they would stop before Saba. When he saw her, Jimmy immediately dropped all the ropes despite Boyle's protests. His face lit up and he ran across the deck, stopping respectfully about two yards away, unable to say a word. But Brianna was so relieved to see him in good health that she frowned, as if she was ready to cry, and crossed the distance between them to hug him, her arms outstretched.

After a moment's hesitation, Jimmy's arms closed around Brianna's waist and they hugged each other, smiling foolishly. "You scared the hell out of me, you know...", she breathed against the boy's hair.

"You too, Miss Brianna..."

Behind them, Boyle trotted along, his arms also outstretched, with a lewd smile on his lips. But he never reached his goal. Still holding the helm with one hand, Bonnet shifted quickly to the side, kicking in Boyle's right shin, causing him to fall flat on the deck. "Do you want your hands cut off, Mr. Boyle?", Bonnet hissed with a threatening glance.

O’Brien sneered as Boyle winced in pain and stood up, rubbing his elbows. "No, I don’t, captain."

"Keep’em on the moorings, then."

Brianna let Jimmy go and smiled at the sailor. "Nice to see you too, Mr. Boyle," she said as they went back to work.

"Interesting reaction," O'Brien muttered, taking a puff.

The captain's gaze left the horizon, where the outlines of an island already appeared, and landed on his first mate. "My foot slipped," he said in a tone that suggested it was best not to discuss his bad faith.

O'Brien's lips stretched around his cigar. "Obviously…"

"Is that Sint-Eustatius?”, Brianna asked, putting a hand above her eyebrows. The island’s name was strangely familiar to her, but she couldn't remember where or why she had heard it.

"Aye," Bonnet replied, jumping at the chance to change the subject. Beside him, O'Brien shook his head slyly. "We will spend the night in Oranjestad, we need to buy food and fill up with fresh water. We’ve run out of stocks with the flu."

"And we will be safe from the red coats...", the first mate added. Brianna looked curiously at him and he explained: "The island is under Dutch control."

"You’re really avoiding the English at all costs...", she mocked.

Bonnet winced. "Let’s say I’m a bit out of favor with His Majesty’s representatives..."

"Maybe because your underground economy is causing them to lose tens of thousands pounds worth in taxes?"

"Absolutely not!” She gave him a dubious look and he shrugged. "It’s because I’m Irish."

Brianna laughed and shook her head, while Bonnet turned to his first mate and asked him to make sure all the sailors were taking their positions for their upcoming arrival. O’Brien disappeared, leaving them alone, and the captain immediately gave up his straight face to cast another glance towards Brianna's skirt. The fabric was slightly waving in the wind, revealing her ankles. "What?", she asked.

"Nothing... Why don’t we stay in the Caribbean? I like your summer clothes better…”

"You're not the only one…"

Bonnet's smile froze and he looked around, ready to gouge any impudent sailor’s eyes out, but all of his employees were busy preparing their arrival.

"I was talking about myself...", she clarified, laughing. "But O’Brien is right, it's an interesting reaction."

~o~

For a tiny island, lost in the middle of the Caribbean, Sint-Eustatius was not lacking in animation and it did not take Brianna very long to understand why the name rang a bell. The city of Oranjestad was mostly organized around a military fort erected in the previous century, whose imposing cannons were all directed towards the sea. A synagogue, built by one of the first Jewish communities of the New World, and a church with typical Dutch square bell towers dominated the low houses that stretched as far as the eye could see. A huge marketplace ran along the harbor, attracting men and soldiers from all horizons, but it was when she saw the nature of the sold goods that Brianna realized where she was.

"Weapons...", she whispered, as she walked by the largest arsenal she had ever seen in her life. There was something for every taste. From simple daggers to cannons, rifles, pistols, bayonets, and everything that could be used to maim, kill, injure, gash or cripple a human being.

"The island also makes sugar cane, if that makes you feel better...", Bonnet joked while stopping in front of a stall.

But Brianna wasn’t listening anymore. Her US history teacher’s voice echoed in her mind as clearly as if he was in front of her. Sint-Eustatius was a trade hub for weapons and ammunition, whose importance became decisive when the Thirteen Colonies of North America had rebelled against the Crown of England and proclaimed their independence. Most of the weapons used by the patriots came from this island, to the point that one of the representatives of the British government had declared to the Parliament in 1778 that “if Sint-Eustatius had sunk into the sea three years before, the United Kingdom would have already dealt with George Washington”. The young woman grinned: she couldn’t believe she was once again behind the scenes of the War of Independence.

"You look very cheerful for a woman surrounded by lethal weapons...", Bonnet muttered, looking up. Brianna immediately pursed her lips and tried to put a neutral expression on her face.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about... never mind. What is that?”, she asked, grabbing a strange object on the stall in front of them, eager to change the subject.

The tool was a key handle, but it ended with a weird mechanism composed of several metal sheets, rounded in the shape of a pear. The merchant, who was watching her, seemed delighted by her question and rushed to extol the virtues of his merchandise.

"That is a pear of anguish, my dear. It was often used in the old days to punish talkative women. You have to place the round part", he pointed at the pear, "inside the mouth and turn the key to spread or gather the metal plates. And then, you can remove the key.” The merchant leaned towards them conspiratorially. "Between you and me, I said ‘mouth’ but you can pretty much use it in every orifice."

Brianna slowly put the object back onto the stall as politely as she could, while Bonnet nodded, pretending to be impressed. "I could definitely use one of these”, he drawled, as she gave him a murderous look and turned away from the stall. Bonnet caught up to her soon, looking very pleased with his bad joke. But Brianna had frozen in the middle of the street, with a painful expression on her face. A little further on, a platform had been erected in the center of a small square and chained slaves were presented to the crowd. The most frightened were lowering their heads, but others proudly held their chin up, as to defy any potential buyer. One of the sellers approached a young black man to introduce him to the crowd, feeling his muscles and asking him to open his mouth wide to expose his teeth.

The young man’s eyes shot daggers and he took a step back to escape the slaver’s hands. Behind him, a young girl screamed a few words in their native dialect, probably to tell him not to go too far, but it was too late. The slaver grabbed a long stick and raised it to hit the slave once, twice...

"Motherfuckers...", Brianna barked, rushing into the crowd. She had almost reached the stage, when she felt Bonnet's arms circling her from behind. As he lifted her off the ground with disconcerting ease, she used the last tool at her disposal and began to throw insults at the white slavers.

"By Danu, shut up!", Bonnet growled, trying to throw her over his shoulder, but she struggled like the devil and all eyes soon turned to them.

"Do you have a problem, woman?", said the man from his platform, his stick still raised and ready to strike his victim again.

Hitting Bonnet's ribs hard with her elbow, Brianna managed to free herself and opened her mouth to give that bastard a piece of her mind, but the Black girl waved at her in panic. She was staring at Brianna with a pleading look, shaking her head.

"Go on like this and you will have his death on your conscience...", Bonnet hissed, glancing nervously around him. The whole crowd stared at them in silence and you could have almost heard a pin drop.

Brianna gritted her teeth; she didn’t know how this could harm them, but the cruelty of this century never ceased to surprise her. She took a few breaths to calm down and said quietly: "Stop hitting him. Please."

There was an incredulous silence again, before the crowd burst into laughter. The only ones who weren't laughing were Brianna, Bonnet who was looking around nervously, and the slaves on their platform.

"Four strokes with the cane, that’s what you get for an act of insubordination. What do you suggest I do with the two remaining strokes, love?”, the slaver asked, shrugging. As Brianna did not answer, he held out his stick. "Maybe I should give them to you?"

"Watch it, mate, that’s a road you don't want to go down...", Bonnet growled, giving him his coldest glance.

The man sneered. " _Dura lex, sed lex_... The law is harsh, but it is the law!”

"If I take the last two strokes, will his debt be paid off?"

Bonnet's eyes almost came out of their sockets when he heard the young woman's question and he grabbed her arm. "Are you feckin’ insane?"

The merchant nodded with a wicked grin. Such a pretty girl getting roughed up in public would certainly make a good show. It was going to attract customers, for sure. "My word is my bond, m’lady...", he cooed.

Bonnet would have gladly gutted the man with his bare hands, but they were in a crowded square in the middle of the day. It would be totally reckless, even for him.

"Fine."

On the platform, the slaves were staring at Brianna as if she was crazy and she had to admit they were probably right. She had reacted out of anger, without thinking about the consequences for the slaves, and now she had to take responsibility. It was not how she would help their cause. Even if it would take time, even if it was excruciating to watch, she had to let this part of History take its course. Because nothing would change simply because one girl sold at auction on September 3, 1770 had challenged one slave trader among too many others. At best, passersby would have a good laugh, at worst it would cause the untimely death of a young man who had not asked for her ‘help’. But in no case it would put an end to a trade that had started centuries ago.

Breaking free from Bonnet's grip, she slowly climbed onto the stage, facing the crowd that was waiting with disgusting impatience. The merchant grinned and she heard him take a few steps back. Brianna turned her head to the left at the slave she had tried to defend. His expression was indefinable. "Never give up," she whispered. "One day, it will get better. It will be far from perfect, but at least it will be better than this…”

The black man frowned and she knew he had understood. Did he also sense that she knew more than the people of that time? She had no idea, but at least she hoped it had given him something to hold on to.

"Gimme the cat o’nine tails...", she heard behind her and she saw the merchant swap his heavy stick for some kind of martinet whose leather straps had been replaced by thin ropes with knots at the ends.

"If you touch her with that thing, I’ll swear to Danu...", Bonnet barked, gesturing towards the stage, but three men immediately grasped him round the waist and arms to prevent him from attacking the merchant.

"You said two strokes with a cane!”, Brianna cried, shivering.

"Two strokes, yes.” The man’s fingers were playing with the ropes as he spoke. “But the stick is forbidden for women. Too dangerous. Moreover, the cat o’nine tails is the preferred instrument for undisciplined pirates..." He glanced at her and Bonnet’s outfits. "Because that’s what you are, aren’t you? _Pirates_ …”

Brianna gulped and turned her head towards Bonnet, who was still detained by the slaver's henchmen. He had immediately reacted at the sight of the object and that did not reassure her at all. The tip of the instrument brushed against her spine and the man slightly patted her on the shoulder. "On your knees."

Terrorized, she complied and looked at Bonnet again seeking for support, but he was staring at the merchant with a gleam of sheer madness in his eyes and she understood at that moment that sooner or later, in a minute or in an hour, he would murder him, just like he would murder Mulligan. Make him pay for touching his property. And for the first time in her life, Brianna had no intention of getting in his way. The man pushed her shoulders and she fell on all fours, which drew laughs and cheers from the crowd. Amongst the onlookers were a few familiar faces, crew members of the _Gloriana_ who had seen her on the platform. She caught a glimpse of O’Brien standing on tiptoe, looking for his captain's tricorn. She also thought about what her mother had told her about Jamie being whipped by Jack Randall in public during the Jacobite rebellion. As only a few seconds separated her from her punishment, she was feeling strangely calm and resigned. Had Jamie felt that way, too?

She didn't have time to think about the answer. The cat o’nine tails landed on her back with a characteristic whistling sound and she screamed: she had clearly not expected it to hurt _that_ much. The man had not even removed her waist cincher and half of the ropes had hit the leather instead of the thin blouse that protected the rest of her skin. But half was enough. Her eyes instantly filled with tears and she turned her head to Bonnet, finding unexpected comfort in the spark of fury that lit his green eyes.

The second stroke was even worse than the first. The man appeared to have noticed his error and had hit her upper back and shoulders. The skin, already bruised by the first stroke, split under the second and her back burned as if some acid had been poured onto it. She cried out again and tears fell down onto the stage, leaving small damp circles on the wood.

There was some applause in the crowd and Brianna looked up. If she had had the power to kill them all at once, right now, she would have done it. How could her mother enjoy living in this damn century, where people were treated like vermin? She was blinded by her love for Jamie, all right, but _at that point_?

"Good! After this lovely interlude, my dear customers, know that you can get one of these little toys…", he waved the cat o’nine tails in the air, whose ropes were stained with Brianna's blood, "for the modest sum of ten shillings! However, be sure to replace the ropes after each use, otherwise you could transmit infections to all of your slaves. And we wouldn't like that, would we, gentlemen?"

Still on the ground, Brianna clenched her trembling fists and tried to rise with dignity, but the pain on her back was unbearable and she fell back on all fours with a groan.

O'Brien had finally found Bonnet and approached him. The three men who surrounded him finally let go and through the tears clouding her field of vision, she saw him whisper a few words to the first mate, give him a purse full of money, before climbing on the platform to help her get up. Clinging to one of the pirate's shoulders, Brianna let him put her on her feet while stifling her sobs. Never in her life had she felt so humiliated and hurt, and she already thought she had hit rock bottom when she had been sold in Kingston. _And yet, you only had five minutes of what millions of Africans have been experiencing for two hundred years_ … She couldn’t help but think about Gayle, her roommate from college: the young woman was of African descent and participated to every black civil rights event in Boston. Brianna had always had the highest respect for her and her cause. But now… She understood their rage, their need for respect. Centuries of violence… it invaded your body and soul, got in your blood, became engraved in your DNA. But she literally had to go back two hundred years to fully realize it.

"I'm taking you back to the ship...", Bonnet growled while helping getting off the platform. She simply nodded, unable to speak, and as they walked away under the mocking gazes of the crowd, the merchant couldn't help but open his filthy mouth again:

"If I were you, mate," he said behind Bonnet's back, "I would teach that little lady how to behave. Anyway, she should be a bit more obedient for a while. I made sure of that."

Brianna felt Bonnet's whole body stiffen against hers and she looked up at him, mentally begging him not to give in to provocation. But strangely, the pirate did not even look back. He kept his eyes in front of him, on the road that led to the docks and by extension to the _Gloriana_. Bonnet's silence was chilling and an ominous sign that nothing good would come of it. So much so that Brianna started mumbling apologies while drying the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Bonnet did not pronounce a single word in the next hours. He had laid Brianna on her stomach on their bed, then carefully removed her waist cincher and her bloodstained blouse. With infinite patience, he had washed and cleaned her wounds with a little alcohol and water, stiffening with each of her cries of pain. Fortunately, all the ropes had not cut the skin, but the damage was significant enough to know that it would leave some indelible scars. After that, he had sat on a chair and had remained completely silent and motionless, as if he was watching a movie in his own mind. The night came and he had not moved an inch. Brianna was still in bed, her arms hugging her pillow under her head, when someone knocked on the cabin door.

Bonnet rose from his chair and Brianna heard him exchange a few words with their visitor, before turning towards her.

"I will be back."

"Where are you going?”, she asked, straightening on all fours on the bunk. The skin on her back was sore, but she ignored it. The pirate did not answer and slammed the door behind him, leaving her alone with a bad feeling. The idea of him finding and beating the shit out of that bastard slaver did not bother her, but if the man was not alone, the situation could quickly escalate. Either way, it was too late. Nothing she could have said or done would have discouraged Bonnet from avenging her. Everything she could do was hope for him to come back in one piece.

~o~

"Hey, Jones, one last round? Don’t tell me you’re going to bed now?"

Halfway up from his chair, Rupert Jones, professional human trafficker, shook his head and waved his hand. "I’ve drunk enough, you’ve drunk enough, and everyone here has drunk enough too...", he stammered as he made his way to the tavern’s rooms.

"That was quite a show you gave us with that lass...", said a man, raising his pint as Jones passed by. "I know a few lads who would pay a lot of money for more! In private, if you see what I mean...” A roar of laughter greeted his comment.

Rupert Jones patted his own skull with his index finger. "I’ll think about that!"

Jones tramped up the stairs and staggered to his room. He pushed the door open, closed it behind him, and was about to collapse on his bed when a suspicious shadow caught his eye. Before he had had time to see what it was, three men were on top of him, immobilizing his arms and head. Another kicked him in the back of his knees and he fell to the ground.

He opened his mouth to scream and call for help, but a huge hand pushed a large, dirty rag into his throat before tying it all up with a gag. The men around him were quite young, in their twenties, except one who looked more like a teenager. "What do you want from me?”, he asked. At least that's what he meant to ask, because through the gag, his question looked more like a series of muffled ‘hmm’. He didn’t have to wait long for an answer. Coming out of a dark corner of the room, the pirate whose damsel he had whipped at the market was slowly approaching him, and his eyes would have scared the gods of Hell themselves. The pirate crouched down and pursed his lips, as if thinking about what he was going to say. The silence stretched for long seconds, during which Bonnet was just staring at Jones without a word, shaking his head slowly. Jones let out a new groan.

"I don't even know what to say, _mate_...", Bonnet shrugged. "And there is not much to say, actually. You know why I'm here, so... I'm not going to waste any more of my men’s time.” He waved his fingers. "Face down. I want to see his back."

Ignoring the screams coming from under the gag, the sailors tore the back of the merchant's shirt, before pinning him to the floor. Bonnet drew his knife from his belt and laid down next to Jones, revolving the blade under his nose. The metal shone in the candlelight, accentuating the terror in the merchant’s pupils.

"Nine ropes. Two strokes. Eighteen slashes. This is the debt that you owe to my lassie and that I will be collecting now. I'll tear a flap of your skin off for each rope that touched hers. And then...", Bonnet grabbed the man's hair to force him to look straight into his eyes. "When I’m done, after long… _long_ minutes, and believe me I _will_ take my time... once these eighteen skin flaps have left your coward’s body and you will start hoping to come out of here alive... I’ll cut your throat."

He released the man's head and his chin hit the floor. Jones began to sob miserably. Straddling the slaver's lower back, Bonnet stuck the end of his knife into the flesh, before freezing and raising his head, as if he had forgotten something.

"Jimmy. Go and keep a lookout in the hallway."

"No way. I want to see him suffer for what he did to Miss Brianna…"

Bonnet narrowed his eyes. "That’s an order, Mr. Walsh..."

Jimmy stiffened, as he was not used to be called by his last name, but he had to face the facts. The captain wouldn't let him see this. The teenager swallowed his protests and went out, closing the door behind him. No sooner had the young man disappeared than Bonnet's knife sank into the flesh, drawing a long slash of about eight inches across Jones' back, who wriggled like a worm under the pirate’s legs. A second slash, parallel to the first, followed. Then, as he would have torn a band-aid, Bonnet sharply pulled on the first flap, revealing the raw flesh underneath. Jones' inhuman cry echoed through the room despite the gag and Bonnet threw the flap to the ground with a satisfied sigh. A cruel smile appeared on his lips and he tilted his head to the side. "One… "

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Sooooooo… What did you guys think of this chapter? It was so intense! Bonnet playing nurse, before making up for lost time with Brianna (he seemed to miss her a lot during this epidemic, hehe)… But especially what happened at the slave market and Stephen’s revenge… Someone has definitely discovered that touching Stephen Bonnet’s property can’t go unpunished... x) I can’t wait to hear your opinion on this chapter, I have tried to cover the subject of slavery as best as I could but if something seems offensive or inappropriate to you, please let me know! I didn’t want Brianna to be that white hero stepping in and magically solve the problem, I just imagined her throwing insults and screaming in the crowd and of course, that wouldn’t go unpunished at the time. I had written this part long before the death of George Floyd, before the protests in the United States and also here in France in memory of Adama Traoré, but it just strengthened my desire to include this scene in the story.**

**I can’t wait to read your comments, and until next Monday I wish you all a great week!**

**Xérès**


	13. Beidh Aonach Amarach

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Happy Monday everyone! This is already the 13 th chapter of this fiction, time flies!! The last chapter was quite rich in emotions: we discovered a softer side in our dear Captain Bonnet (which doesn’t seem to affect his dark side, however). This time, we finally arrive on Saba and will start our long awaited treasure hunt! I can't wait to hear your reactions to this first part! **

**Thank you all of you who read, commented and sent Kudoz for this job!**

**oOo**

  1. _Beidh Aonach Amarach_ (There’s A Fair Tomorrow)



Minutes ticked by, unbearably slowly, and Brianna kept staring at the cabin door hoping to see Bonnet reappear. After about an hour with no other distraction than the pain in her back, she couldn’t stand it anymore. With slow gestures, she got up and went out on the balcony, her chest only wrapped in bandages. It was pitch dark outside and even if someone could see her, she didn't give a damn. Holding the bottle of whiskey Bonnet had used to disinfect her wounds, she leaned her lower back against the railing, letting her gaze wander along Oranjestad bay. She took a large swig, hoping alcohol would alleviate both physical pain and anxiety, while enjoying the cool night wind on her bruised body.

About half an hour later, the cabin door finally opened and Bonnet entered. His eyes went immediately to the empty bunk and Brianna saw him stiffen for a couple of seconds as he scanned the room. Until he noticed her silhouette in the shadows. The young woman's heart started beating faster when she noticed that his aura was calmer and more normal than during those long hours spent staring at the wall without making the slightest sound. The pirate lowered his eyes for a moment on his bloodstained hands and outfit, before looking back at her like a kid afraid of being punished for doing something stupid.

"I know where you were...", Brianna whispered, resting her almost empty bottle of whiskey on the railing. At these words, Bonnet looked away and removed his knife and his flintlock pistol from his belt to place them on the desk. He then plunged his hands into the clean water bucket and scrubbed them vigorously. "But I don't care..."

This time, the expression that settled on his features was pure disbelief. Brianna reached out her hand to invite him to come near her and he approached with precautious steps, as if he thought she was playing some kind of low-down trick on him. "Whatever you did to that filthy bastard, know that you had my blessing before you even walked through that door..."

He pressed his forehead against hers and whispered: "Even if I killed him?"

Brianna lowered her head in an attempt to meet his gaze, but he kept avoiding her eyes, as if the cruel pleasure he had felt as he flayed the slaver was gone the minute he remembered that he was not the kind of man she deserved. Tired of searching for his green eyes, Brianna grabbed his face in her hands. "Stephen!” She felt him freeze, before realizing that it was the first time she called him by his first name. And by the look on his face, he must have noticed it too. "I don't care...", she repeated against his lips. "As long as justice in this country does not convict these men for their misdeeds, you could kill a thousand of them, I wouldn’t _give a shit_."

A smile finally returned to his lips as he heard her curse and he raised an eyebrow. "I could kill them all for you... well, all but two.” He left his words hanging for a moment, just enough for her to frown. "Those who were kind enough to put you on my way."

Brianna’s heart seemed to explode in her chest and she immediately captured Bonnet's lips. The pirate let himself be carried away by her kiss, clutching Brianna's hips between his fingers. Her hands slid towards his pants to unbutton them, and he reluctantly pulled away. "Not here, someone could see us..."

"Let them watch...", she retorted, pulling him back to her.

Bonnet’s arms lifted her by the thighs to sit on the railing and Brianna groaned when her wounds painfully reminded her of their existence. "Did I hurt you?”, Bonnet panicked as she shook her head frantically, not wanting him to stop what he was doing. With one hand, she helped him lower his pants a bit, then wrapped her legs around his hips. He entered her without any hesitation, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Brianna closed her eyes, torn between the delightful feeling of having Stephen inside her again and the stinging burn coming from her wounds. It was like losing her virginity all over again, reliving that sensual night when she had abandoned herself to the Irishman for the first time.

Shaken by the movements of their hips, the whiskey bottle tipped over and smashed against the hull below, the noise echoing along the docks.

"It came from over here!", a voice said on the upper deck above their heads.  
Bonnet froze, placing a finger on Brianna's mouth to silence her, and looked up. But the young woman was far too drunk to care. With a playful smile, she gnawed on the tip of his finger and the pirate's dark green eyes went slowly back down on her. The feeling of her teeth and tongue on his index finger, coupled with the fear of being caught in the act by a few sailors, drove him completely mad. When she was sure she had aroused his interest, she suddenly bit his finger, hard enough to make him squeal out of surprise. Above them, the sailors ruffled again and he quickly pulled up his pants before dragging Brianna away from the balcony and the curious faces that would soon appear over the upper rail. Savoring Bonnet's exasperated and lustful expression, the young woman burst into laughter and let him lead her into the cabin.

~o~

In the early hours of the morning, when Brianna opened her eyes, the first thing she felt was the warmth of Stephen’s body against hers and his hand gently caressing her red hair. A smile crept across her lips and she gently raised her head to kiss him. One of the pirate's arms instinctively went behind her back to press her against him, but she groaned in pain.

"Sorry..."

Brianna settled a little more comfortably, resting her chin on the Irishman's chest. "Can we stay like this all day long?"

Stephen smiled and tilted his head, as if he was actually considering her request. "We have a treasure to find..."

"Do I absolutely have to put on some clothes?"

" _Aye_ , you do", he blurted out, wincing at the idea of letting her wander around half-naked in front of the entire crew.

Her face dropped back onto his chest and she groaned. A few minutes later, they left the cabin together, after one last kiss away from prying eyes. The heat was already suffocating and the sun was not yet at its zenith, but Brianna had not put her waist cincher back on so as not to press on the bandages. The wind blew through her blouse and pleasantly refreshed her. She probably looked like a disheveled harlot according to the century’s criteria, but she couldn’t care less. _I'm not going back to that damn market anyway_..., she thought, glaring at the harbor. It was at that moment that her eyes fell on a new face on the _Gloriana_ ’s deck. Not exactly "new" since she had seen it the day before, but certainly new to the crew. Dressed in pants and a canvas blouse, just like most of the other sailors, was the young black slave from the day before.

"What…?"

Brianna turned to Bonnet, who passed by her, smiling, and stopped near the African. "I wanted to make sure he wouldn’t pay for your insolence after we left..." He saw Brianna's mouth open and raised his hands in appeasement. "I asked him to be part of the crew. Many pirates are former slaves on the run... We judge every man on his abilities and nothing else."

The young woman closed her mouth and approached the new sailor, smiling. "What’s your name?"

"My first owner called me Félix, mistress," he replied quietly.

"I meant your _real_ name."

The black man shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. "Ayodeji, mistress."

"Please, call me Brianna.” She reached out her hand for him to shake, which he did after a long hesitation. "Nice to meet you properly... I know that Captain Bonnet has offered you to join the crew, but you don’t have to stay if you don't want to. You are free to go and if you have somewhere safe to be, I suppose we can take you there..."

Ayodeji thought for a moment, frowning. "My parents died long before I left Africa and I had no other family, mistress. I would like to stay, if you allow me."

"Welcome aboard, then," Bonnet said with a pat on his shoulder. “At sea, all members of the crew have the same privileges. Your voice counts just as much as that of others. You will have the same rights, but also the same duties. O’Donnell, our boatswain, will explain our rules to you and assess your skills in order to decide which position you will occupy."

"There are rules?", Brianna quipped, while Jimmy beside her coughed to hide a chuckle.

"Yes, master," the young man replied, certainly out of habit, and the redhead winced again.

"Don’t..." Bonnet sighed and waved a finger in front of him. "All crew members must refer to me as ‘captain’. The only person who can call me ‘master’ is the lassie.” He pointed at Brianna with a sly smile and she rolled her eyes, as a few sailors laughed.

"O’Brien, First mate," the young man introduced himself with a smile. "And I have bad news for you..." He left his words hang for a few seconds, before leaning towards their new recruit. “…You are now surrounded by eighty rude and noisy Irishmen."

The sailors cheered and Ayodeji seemed to relax, as he had probably expected some _actual_ bad news. He smiled weakly, while Murphy approached Brianna to gently pat her on the head. "And an insanely stubborn Boston girl... But I’m sure you already noticed that."

Brianna stooped to stay out of his reach and couldn't help but frown, wondering how much Bonnet had confided in his old carpenter.

"Mr. Ayodeji, if you don't mind following me," O'Donnell said, holding out a hand to take him around the _Gloriana_. Brianna watched them walk away for a moment before turning to Bonnet, her eyes the size of saucers.

"When...? How?”, she stammered, unable to find her words.

The captain smiled and shrugged. "Before I helped you down from the platform yesterday, I gave O’Brien my purse to get him out of there. We were down two men after the epidemic, so I thought th-"

He didn't have time to finish his sentence. Brianna had thrown herself on him to kiss him passionately. Her eyelids being closed, she did not see Bonnet frown for a moment, nor his eyes quickly scanning the surroundings, but except for a few smirking sailors, everyone had turned away from the young woman’s improper behavior. Still, he kissed her back with the same enthusiasm, even if he forced himself to pull away faster than he would have liked.

"Thank you... for everything," Brianna whispered, smiling. She saw him nod, looking around them embarrassedly, and pursed her lips. "Sorry. I… got carried away."

"It's all right...", he shrugged. "I'll gouge a few eyes out as an example..."

She laughed and he looked down at her, with a hint of disappointment. "There was a time when that kind of comment didn't make you laugh..."

"There was a time when I took you much too seriously."

"For your own good, I will forget you said that, darlin’...", he mumbled as he made his way to the upper deck.

Brianna sneered and drawled, with a warm voice. "As you wish, ... _master_."

Stephen gave her an amused and slightly lecherous look, before turning away for their departure.

~o~

Only three or four hours of navigation separated Sint-Eustatius from Saba but as the crew of the _Gloriana_ quickly noticed when they arrived near the island, the difficulty was not the journey to get there, but finding a practicable place to moor. Barely five square miles big, the island was nothing but a huge jungle and rocky peak rising from the sea like a lone tree in the middle of the desert. Not a single beach in sight, only cliffs of volcanic stone, steep and sharp like razor blades, against which the waves crashed violently.

At the helm, O'Brien scanned the surroundings with a dark face, looking for a place to anchor. But even if they sent a raft, there would be no place to dock safely. Against the port rail, Bonnet also observed the jagged coast, frowning. "Is it this island, Mr. Murphy?”, he asked the carpenter, who nodded. "Where can we get there?"

"You have to go around the island southward. The first settlers created a makeshift harbor, with a single route leading to The Bottom. If it's still there..."

"I understand why no one has bothered to mention this island on any map...", Brianna muttered, looking worriedly at the inextricable jungle that covered the only mountain of the island. Even if they managed to leave the ship, they would still have to face the jungle and find Hell’s Gate. Without even knowing what to look for exactly.

An hour later, they were mooring the _Gloriana_ at the smallest pier Brianna had ever seen and judging by Bonnet’s concentrated frown, the maneuver was quite unusual for him too. The "port", if you could call it that, was completely deserted and the silence among the crew betrayed the tension they all felt at the sight of this hostile no man’s land.

"What the hell is this place?”, Boyle whispered, observing the lifeless coast.

Murphy shook his head in disbelief. "It was a little bit livelier in my time... The Dutch had sent families to populate the island."

"Where are they, then?”

The old man did not answer and the sailors deployed the walkway to set foot on Saba. The path to The Bottom was a road in nothing but name. It was actually a kind of roughly carved rock staircase that dived deep into the thick vegetation.

"How long until we reach the village?”, Bonnet asked Murphy.

The old man rummaged through his memories for a moment. "Two miles at most... But it goes up and it's in the middle of the jungle..."

The captain turned to Doherty and ordered him to bring in around twenty sharp weapons and bags to carry water and food. “I want twenty volunteers to come with us. The rest of you stay here and guard the ship. Armed."

"There’s no one here...", Brianna mumbled, frowning.

"Exactly…"

As Doherty disappeared with a few sailors towards the holds, Brianna ran to the cabin to put on her pants, her heavy boots and take her satchel, which she passed only over one shoulder to keep the strap away from her injured back. When Bonnet saw her in her ‘combat gear’, he scowled and barked: "No!"

"Are you kidding me?", Brianna retorted in the same tone. " _My_ information, _my_ treasure!” She raised her hands under his nose. " _My_ fingers into a rotting corpse to take _my_ map out of this damn grave!"

The pirate was about to reply, when Doherty returned with his assistants, arms loaded with bottles, food, machetes and other sabers. Bonnet froze when his carpenter reached out to one of the weapons. "By Danu... No, you're not coming either," he ordered Murphy.

"I am the only one who ever set foot on this island, you need me and you know it..."

Bonnet opened his mouth and looked alternately at the same stubborn expression on his carpenter’s and on Brianna’s faces. Behind them, Boyle leaned towards O'Brien. "I love it, it's like watching a play at the theatre, except it's free."

The first mate suppressed his laughter, while Brianna abruptly ended the discussion by stuffing a bottle and some fruits in her satchel. She then grabbed a machete and left the ship, waiting on the pier with her arms crossed. The carpenter soon imitated her, then Jimmy, Boyle, Flaherty and fifteen of the youngest and strongest sailors, among which their new recruit. Brianna smiled at Jimmy, Boyle and Flaherty: the cemetery team was back together. The only one missing was Bonnet, still fuming on the deck.

With excessive nonchalance, Murphy unrolled the maps he had studied for the last few days, including a more detailed representation of the island. “We should find the village first. From there, we’d be able to get to Spring Bay. There will probably be someone up there to help us."

"The voice of wisdom has spoken!", Brianna cheerfully exclaimed before setting off, soon followed by Boyle and Jimmy. Bonnet cursed in a low voice and grabbed a bottle, which he attached to his belt, before following the group with his ruff swaying gait.

In single file, they went up the narrow rock staircase for several hundred meters before it gave way to a path winding through the rainforest. The ambient humidity was suffocating and despite the short distance, they were soon all dripping with sweat.

After a half-hour walk, the first buildings of The Bottom finally appeared at the end of the vegetation tunnel, but the relief was short-lived. Brianna, who had arrived first, stopped in the middle of the road and wrinkled her nose. Several houses stood on either side of the road, but the atmosphere in the neighborhood was grim to say the least. There was literally no one in sight. Several estates even seemed to be abandoned, the wooden shutters swaying gently in the wind. On some roofs, the vegetation had reasserted itself and a thick layer of moss covered the wooden porches. Brianna walked slowly between the houses, with the unpleasant feeling of being in one of those ghost villages that still existed near the old mines of the American Wild West. A few houses still seemed to be in good condition a little further, and strangely enough, each of them had plates aligned on the porch.

"Hello!”, Brianna called out loud. "Is there anyone here?"

The sailors who arrived after her scattered along the road, observing the surroundings with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. The young woman jumped onto the porch of one of the least damaged houses and stuck her nose against a dusty window. The sun was so bright outside that she could not see much and had to put her hand on her forehead. When a wrinkled face appeared in her field of vision, just on the other side of the glass, she let out a high-pitched scream and stepped back, before realizing that it was simply an old man. He seemed to be in his eighties and was bending over a wooden cane.

"What's the matter?”, Bonnet asked running up, his knife ready to cut some throats.

Brianna placed a hand on her pounding heart and signaled to him that everything was fine. The front door opened and the frail old man came out, as slow as a snail, his eyes staring at Brianna and at Bonnet’s long dagger with evident distrust.

"Put that away!", Brianna hissed, waving her hand towards the pirate. "Sorry, sir, I wasn’t expecting to find someone on the other side..."

"What are you doing here?”, the man asked in a quavering voice. Brianna opened her mouth, but made a face, thinking about what she could tell him to justify their presence. Tourism was obviously not the most popular activity on this island. But the old man didn't wait for her to lie and said: "Looking for treasures, huh?"

Bonnet raised his eyebrows, putting the knife back in its scabbard. "Would it be that obvious, old man?"

The villager shrugged. "Those who come here are either hiding things or looking for loot... Outlaws of your kind come once every six months... at least."

Brianna pursed her lips and decided to change tactics. "Sir... Would you tell us what happened to the people of this island?" The old man looked at her and she added: "I’m asking because... many of these houses seem abandoned..."

"The Dutch have been deported...", replied the old man, waving his cane towards the houses. "In Saint-Martin and Sint-Eustatius... When pirates in Jamaica decided that the island would be their hideout. It was almost fifty years ago now... The Dutch never came back.” He repeatedly shook his head, making his flaccid chin tremble. “The pirates who replaced them left at some point. Living here’s not easy. There are only twelve of us left in The Bottom. Some others on the northern slope of the island. And then there is the people below..."

"Do you know how long it takes to go to Hell’s Gate?", Murphy asked, approaching Brianna. The villager seemed to relax somewhat at the sight of an older man among the young fellows and nodded.

“Three hours at most, if you go around the volcano. But in the jungle, you can hardly see anything in front of you. It’s hard to know where you’re going when you don't know the place..."

"And if we go up?"

"It's longer... but once at the top, you just have to find your drop-off point and go straight ahead. As much as possible."

"Well, thank you very much for the information...", Bonnet grunted. The old man was making him uncomfortable. “And have a nice day.”

"You’re not planning on going there now?", he said, poking the captain's legs with his cane. "By the time you get to the top, the sun will be about to set..."

"What do you suggest?”, Brianna asked to divert the old man’s attention from Bonnet, who was looking at the cane with an evil eye.

"If you follow the road to the east, about four miles away, you will find another neighborhood like this one. You will get there in time before dark and can settle into one of the houses. They're all uninhabited there, but one of them, the largest, was still home to a family a few months ago. It will be more comfortable for all of you."

"Thank you very much..." Brianna smiled and was about to turn away when the cane hit her shin this time and she stopped dead so as not to fall flat on the ground.

"One last thing, my child..." The old man's voice was now deeper, darker, as if he was about to give her a warning. "You'll find plates like these over there..." He waved his cane towards his own porch, where three plates were lined up on the steps. “Be sure to fill them with the leftovers of your evening meal. For the people below. Otherwise, they will come and help themselves inside."

"The people below?”, Brianna repeated, incredulously.

“They live underground and only go out at night… The leftovers are for them. It's always been like that, around here..."

"I see..." The young woman turned her head towards Bonnet and rolled her eyes, as if she doubted the villager's mental health.

"You do not believe me…"

Brianna smiled to him apologetically. "Sorry, I'm not really a fairy tale kind of girl..."

"There was once a Dutch general on this island... He came straight from Amsterdam with his wife and two adorable little girls. The people here warned him just as I warn you today. But he too was skeptical. On their first night on the island, they refused to listen to the elders and leave their leftovers on the doorstep. When the general's wife went to wake up her daughters the next morning, she only found two empty beds. The people below had helped themselves."

Brianna suppressed a sigh and turned to the sailors, knowing their tendency to superstition, and as she expected, they were literally drinking in the old man’s words. _Come on...,_ she grumbled internally at the sight of their fearful expressions.

"It reminds me of the bowls my grandmother used to prepare to keep the leprechauns from playing tricks on us...", Jimmy mumbled, while Brianna gave him a pleading look as if to say: _Please, not you too_ …

"We will be careful...", said Murphy, thanking the old man with a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Thank you very much for your help and... your hospitality."

The man shrugged. "You are not the firsts and you will not be the lasts to be brought up short by this island... Believe me, leaving this place empty-handed but in one piece is the best thing that can happen to you."

Brianna smiled politely but didn’t want to waste more time listening to the man’s nonsense. She turned away and as the others followed suit, she soon heard Bonnet's boots catching up. She sighed deeply as the pirate gazed confusedly at a row of plates in front of another house.

"Don't tell me you believe this nonsense?"

"I’m not saying I believe him, but when in doubt..."

Brianna shook her head. "He must be telling his ghost stories to all the people who come here... Probably because he doesn’t want his island to become a huge pirate bazaar like Tortuga..." As Bonnet didn’t seem convinced, she added: "You heard him... He sees groups like ours every six months. He's had enough of looters. I wouldn't even be surprised if the other residents also left for that reason."

Although no one was speaking, the birds' whistles above their heads and the incessant buzzing of insects were deafening. Occasionally, a toad croaked, and Brianna couldn't help but think of the thousands of possibly dangerous and poisonous insects and reptiles that surrounded them. She shivered as she passed along a huge spider web, whose silk was studded with drops of water. The web was so thick that she’d rather not imagine the size of the beast that had woven it.

After less than two hours on the muddy path, they finally arrived in the district the old man had described. The sky was already tinged with orange, and Brianna deduced that it must be around five or six o'clock. The sun was setting early in the Caribbean. The villager was therefore right to dissuade them from climbing the mountain today.

A mosquito buzzed against her right ear and she chased it with the back of her hand. The largest house in the hamlet overlooked the area. Beyond the houses, a steep slope led down to the coast. All of them were abandoned, probably for longer than The Bottom’s, judging by the trees that literally grew through the windows. But the main house was still spared and clean, as their guide had promised. On the threshold, new plates had been left there and Brianna stepped over them with a sigh to open the front door. A gigantic entrance hall appeared before her eyes, extended on each side by huge, richly decorated living rooms. The owners had not bothered to take the furniture. But apart from the thick layer of dust that covered the place and the smell of humidity, everything was perfectly livable.

As the pirates entered, Brianna went upstairs to explore the rest of the house. There was something weird about that place and its furniture. As if the person who had decorated the house was ahead of his time. There were four bedrooms upstairs and she entered the one closest to the stairs, understanding from the books and various toys that it must have belonged to a kid. A teenager even. On the walls were pinned all kinds of strangely modern drawings for the century and Brianna identified the characteristic style of superhero comics that was becoming more and more popular in the twentieth century. Some drawings had been torn off and only small pieces of paper could still be seen pinned to the wall, but the rest of the work had disappeared. _Time travelers?,_ she thought with a hint of excitement. That would explain why they had left without taking their furniture with them. Could there be other stone portals, such as Craigh na Dun, on this side of the Atlantic?

Brianna opened one of the drawers on the bedside table and frowned. Inside was an object she had never seen before but whose use she could easily guess. A wired headset was connected to a small box, which contained an audio cassette, similar to those that had appeared on the American market in the early sixties. Obviously, this family came from an even later time than her own... and the parents had not been very vigilant about the belongings carried by their children. The symbols on the object, which had the inscription ‘Walkman’ on its petrol blue case, matched those of her roommate's cassette player in college and she easily understood how to open the drawer containing the cassette. Sliding it out, she saw two words written with a pencil on the yellowed label. _Mixtape 1983_. Brianna smiled. _1983... Unbelievable_. Raising her head, she glanced discreetly at the landing. No one seemed to have followed her upstairs. She closed the bedroom door and turned the key in the lock, without a sound. Leaning against the panel, she placed the headphones on her ears and pressed the Play triangle.

The deafening sound of a crazy electric guitar and the rhythm of drums immediately filled her ears, and she had to refrain a cry of surprise mixed with joy. A frenzied, electric rock hammered her eardrums, while a warm, deep male voice rose inside the headphones.

" _She don’t like slavery, she won’t sit and beg, but when I’m tired and lonely she sees me to bed. What set you free and brought you to me, babe. What set you free, I need you here by me, because…_ ”

Again, the guitars were unleashed and the singer's voice became hoarser. Brianna could almost have shouted in chorus if she had known the lyrics and if she did not risk being convicted of witchcraft for the simple possession of such an artefact. But the door being locked, she let herself go and began to perform a few dance steps, more or less appropriate to the rhythm of the music. A perfect timeless moment, far from the jungle, the pirates, the slavers, and all the cruelty of this century.

" _In the midnight hour she cried more, more, more. With a rebel yell she cried more, more, more. In the midnight hour babe more, more, more. With a rebel yell more, more, more…”_

She probably looked like a madwoman dancing alone in the middle of the room, but the experience was simply exhilarating, and she found herself thanking with all her heart the reckless teenager who had left his player behind. And she swore to herself, that once she would be back in her time, she would wait for the year 1983 to find this singer and buy a ticket for one of his concerts.

She was still dancing when her eyes suddenly saw the doorknob spin several times in vain. _Shit_... She hurriedly removed the headphones and heard a knock on the door, then Stephen’s voice calling her. She pressed the squared button and the tape stopped with an audible click. She threw the walkman and headphones under the bed, and rushed to unlock the door before the pirate smashed it.

"What were you doing in there?”, he asked, glancing suspiciously around the room. But she was alone.

"I was just exploring... I probably turned the key without realizing it..." She left the room, shutting the door, and he squinted at her. She had to dismiss all suspicion quickly. "Oh, were you worried about me?”, she smirked, stepping forward to kiss his lips.

Bonnet relaxed slightly. "I came to see if there were mattresses that we could carry downstairs... The others have gathered several couches, but not enough for everyone to sleep on. I will be more relaxed if we are all in the same room. This place…” He winced, without finishing his sentence.

"Yes, it is... spooky.” She pursed her lips, immediately thinking of the cassette player she had thrown under the bed. "I'm taking care of this mattress. Can you go look in the other rooms?"

He gave her a dubious look and hesitated for a moment, as if he were internally debating the level of trust he was willing to grant her. But Brianna did not flinch and most naturally, reopened the door to head for the bed, removing the dusty blankets and sheets, taking her time. Bonnet's boots pulled away and she threw the sheets on the floor with a sigh. She quickly leaned under the bed to retrieve the walkman and put it back in its original drawer, out of sight. Then, grabbing the woven straw mattress by its fabric envelope, she brought it back to the ground floor.

It was dark when they finished their meal of cookies, fruits and nuts, and the only light now came from the last bits of candles they had collected around the house. Brianna had rolled her eyes when the sailors had gathered a few cookies and nuts to place them on the plates outside, but had not made any comment. _A waste of food, that’s what it is._ However, she refused to engage in an interminable debate on the matter. Around her, all the sailors had found a sofa, an armchair or a piece of mattress to lie on and although she was not really sleepy, she ended up lying down next to Bonnet on one of the mattresses. The pirate was on his back, eyes on the ceiling, and seemed concerned.

Slowly, Brianna slid a hand along the mattress until she touched the pirate's left hand with her index finger. His green eyes turned to her and she saw the same glint of distrust as in the afternoon. She had wondered why he was suddenly so suspicious and she had only reached one conclusion: on the _Gloriana_ , he was in control and knew that she could not go far. He was confident. But outside his ship... that was another story. He must have been literally dying to find out why she had locked the bedroom door earlier. The idea that she had tried to escape him was eating him from within. Brianna would have gladly explained everything to him, but it was impossible. So she just smiled gently at him in the dark. He didn’t smile back, but his eyes seemed more peaceful.

She couldn't tell how much time they spent silently staring at each other, but the sailors' first snores had been echoing in the room for a long time when they finally closed their own eyelids. When Brianna opened them again, waking out of slumber for an unknown reason, all candles had given up the ghost and the living room was plunged into darkness. A few rays of moonlight filtered through the shutters, projecting a ghostly glow on the sleeping sailors and the furniture. She frowned, looking for what could have woken her up, but the silence was complete except for the deep breaths of the twenty sailors around her.

It was when she heard it. A slight noise, similar to a small pebble thrown against the eaves of the house, rolling all the way down until it fell on the wooden terrace. Click… kr kr kr kr… cloc cloc. Brianna blinked, straightening up on her mattress. Her hand unconsciously searched for the handle of her machete lying next to her. Click… kr kr kr kr… cloc. A second small pebble had rolled down the roof and the young woman felt the hairs on her arms stand up despite the damp heat.

There was a creaking sound outside, as if the wooden planks were protesting under the weight of an individual. _That’s the villagers terrifying us. To get rid of us._ No matter how much she repeated these two sentences like a mantra, she was still afraid. CLAC… kr kr kr kr… CLOC-cloc. Much closer this time. She felt Stephen stir next to her and gave him a worried look when he straightened up too.

"What-?”, he started but she brought her index finger to his mouth to silence him.

In the room, Ayodeji and a few other sailors had also woken up. Hurrying footsteps, light and quick, like that of a child, could be heard outside and there were a few murmurs among the sailors. Clack… kr kr kr kr… Cloc. Another pebble.

"Do you think it's them...? The people below?”, Jimmy whispered.

Boyle gave Brianna a naughty look, as she had refused to leave part of her ration on the plates. "I guess we’ll soon find out if we left them enough food..."

She narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head. "Someone is trying to scare us away. They don’t want us around here", she said, trying to be a little more convincing than in her own head. Saying it out loud was comforting, however.  
A new pebble rolled on the roof and the boards of the terrace creaked again. Furious to see about twenty adult men and herself be terrorized by a simple legend, Brianna jumped up, her machete in her hand and crossed the living room towards the front door before Bonnet could stop her. But Ayodeji was faster. In two strides, he was on her, holding her by one arm.

"Miss... I don't think they’re throwing stones to scare us. They’re just making their presence known to us. You shouldn't go out."

"What do you mean…"

"They announce themselves so that we stay inside while they eat..."

Brianna frowned, thinking about what their new crew member had just said, when another stone, much heavier than the others, hit the roof and rolled to the ground. They all looked up at the ceiling, by reflex, and Brianna took advantage of the element of surprise to free herself and run to the front door. There was a panic among the sailors, but she opened the large door nevertheless and stormed out onto the porch. There was not a single living soul outside. The only audible noise was that of the nocturnal insects and the wind rustling in the palm trees. She turned her head to the left, to the right, searching every corner lit up by the moonlight. But the hamlet was deserted. With a shiver, she looked down at the steps leading to the porch, where they had placed their leftovers. At her feet, the plates were empty.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**All right ! What did you think of this chapter?? Bonnet seems to be paying more and more attention to what Brianna thinks of him. This might bring back his own insecurities but she showed him once again that she accepts him the way he is. As for Saba's history, I loved digging into it to create this mix of real and made-up facts, and the more I did research about the Caribbean, the more addicted I became! Every island, even the smallest, is full of adventure, drama and mystery! As for the last scene, with the plates, I was inspired by a Malian legend, which was told to me years ago by a friend from Bamako. So I wanted to share it with you in my own way!**

**(Also, I'm sending love to everyone who identified the song in the cassette player <3 )  
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, can’t wait to read your comments and I wish you a wonderful week! See you next Monday!**

**Xérès**


	14. Mo Ghille Mear

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Happy Monday everyone, chapter 14 is here! You had a little glimpse of the island in the previous chapter, but this time we are going deeper into the jungle and if you thought the village was gloomy, you haven't seen anything yet… I can't wait to read your comments on this!**

**Thanks all of you who read, commented and kudozed this work ! <3**

**oOo**

  1. _Mo Ghille Mear_ (My gallant hero) 



Very few had managed to close their eyes after the nocturnal incident. However, no other pebble had rolled on the roof and no other foot had stepped on the terrace floor. Those who had emptied the plates never came back and the sailors soon congratulated themselves on yielding to superstition. Meanwhile, Brianna was still seething. The ‘people below’ were a local invention, she was sure of that, and the villagers themselves had probably stolen their food. All they had done was feed the rare inhabitants of the island and show weakness. Sitting on the porch steps, waiting for the sailors to gather their things, she glared at the empty plates as if they were responsible for the situation.

When the men were finally ready to leave, she hit the road with long strides, staring stubbornly straight ahead. A little further, Murphy was studying Bellamy’s detailed map to find a place on the heights of the island that would allow them to have a better view of the area. As soon as he had chosen a direction – a path crossing the Eastern half of the island – she followed it without hesitation, in complete silence, occasionally giving a raging blow of her machete in the invasive vegetation. It was crucial to be able to see where you were going. Volcanic rocks often created holes you could easily fall into and break your leg. Some of the rifts on the way were even wide enough to allow a full-grown adult to hide there, and seemed to form galleries beneath the surface. The ground was a real Swiss cheese. The path soon split in two: the main part went on straight ahead and a branch went up west, up the slopes of the sleeping volcano. She turned around, realizing that the others were a few feet behind her, and Murphy motioned for her to turn left.

The slope soon became downright steep, slowing their progression. The jungle also became thicker as they climbed. And the minutes went by, bringing more heat and humidity over the morning. Soon, Brianna had to take a break and decided that she had sulked enough. It was time to stop, grin and bear it. She sat on a large stone on the side of the road and rummaged through her satchel to find her flask, swallowing one or two sips of lukewarm water. Below, the pirates were approaching and from where she was sitting, Brianna could see the whole column of men, leaning forward and staring at the ground to make sure they did not slip.

As a result, none of them saw that danger was also over their heads, where the branches of the trees met. Brianna saw a liana move above the pirates and frowned. She understood her mistake when the liana freed itself from a branch to drop, its mouth wide open and ready to bite, in the middle of the men.

Flaherty let out an agonizing howl and placed his hand on his throat, falling to the ground. A few cries of panic rose among the sailors, while several of them raised their machetes to hit the ground.

"Mr. Flaherty!", Jimmy screamed, rushing to his side. Two meters away, Ayodeji lowered his machete in the mud, cutting off the snake's head. But the damage was done. Brianna rushed down the slope but quickly realized that there was nothing to do for poor Flaherty. Bonnet was leaning over him, slashing the wound with his knife in a desperate attempt to expel the venom more quickly.

Looking down, she observed both halves of the reptile, unable to identify the species. A cloud of white, frothy drool began to escape from Flaherty's mouth, as his whole body began to convulse excruciatingly. "Good Lord...", Jimmy moaned, trying to wipe Flaherty’s drool from his own mouth. But the sailor kept choking on it.

"He’s dying...", Brianna muttered, tears coming to her eyes.

"You don’t know that!”, Bonnet barked, much more aggressively than he meant to. He was still working on the wound, but the blood he expelled was not enough to save his sailor.

Brianna shook her head. How could she explain to him that the snake's venom was probably neurotoxic and that his sailor had only a few minutes left to live. As if to spare her an explanation, Flaherty produced a disgusting gurgling sound and all of his muscles began to jerk uncontrollably. His eyes rolled in his sockets and his fingers curled up like claws against his chest. The captain backed away, with an expression of fear and disgust, and Brianna saw his breathing speed up, causing his rib cage to rise and fall at a rate she had never seen before.

"Captain...", Murphy said darkly. Stephen turned to him and saw that the old man was pointing at the flintlock pistol against his belt. The pirate took one last look at his dying sailor, and drew his weapon to load it with powder and a lead ball. A few moments later, he pointed the gun at Flaherty's head and the others looked away. Jimmy turned quickly to seek comfort from Brianna but the young woman was unable to look away from Bonnet's suddenly cold expression. As if shooting one of his employees in the head was just a job like any other. An unexpected tear rolled down her cheek. She understood that the situation required it, so that the man no longer suffered, but the contrast between the Stephen Bonnet who had tried to save his sailor and the one who was ready to shoot him down a few minutes later was striking. With a deafening bang and a cloud of white smoke, the lead ball was expelled from the barrel and entered Flaherty's forehead. The man immediately stopped moving, his mouth filled with a mixture of white drool, yellow bile and red blood, dripping from the gaping wound in his skull. The shot echoed endlessly in the jungle, frightening the birds in the canopy, and it took several long seconds before everything was silent again.

The small group remained motionless for a minute or two, looking darkly at the body of their former colleague and friend, whose death had been as quick and violent as unexpected. Jimmy squeezed Brianna's hand in his, as hard as he could, and she didn't bother to tell him he was hurting her. She didn't even care.

"Now what, captain?", Boyle asked, breaking the silence first. "We're not going to leave him... well, we can't... not here..."

"His body will rest in the ocean, as it should", Bonnet growled aggressively. He turned to two strong fellows. "You two will go back to the ship with him. And stay there. Don't take any unnecessary risks trying to find us. We are still seventeen, which is more than enough."

"Yes, captain...", the two sailors muttered.

 _Eighteen_ , Brianna corrected internally. The two designated sailors grabbed Flaherty's body by his feet and arms, and went back to The Bottom, from where they would find the stairs leading to the _Gloriana_. And it was with heavy hearts that the rest of the group started to climb the mountain again. Jimmy was still holding Brianna's right hand, and with their other hands, each of them was holding a machete to brave the elements. The young woman regularly glanced towards Bonnet but he was completely silent and his aura dissuaded anyone from approaching him.

Three people had already died since the beginning of their quest. Two had been swept away by the flu and now Flaherty. And how many more before they returned to Philadelphia? Not to mention those who would get killed or injured by MacNamara if they never brought back any treasure. Brianna couldn't help but feel guilty. She had lured all those men into this horrible journey. And for what? Just because she didn't want Bonnet to touch her on the first night. _To achieve the same outcome, in the end. I sleep with him now. I caused the death of three men for... my own convenience_. Brianna found it more and more difficult to breathe. Although her reason told her that she had only protected her body and her mind by avoiding rape, the voice of guilt was louder. She felt Jimmy squeeze her hand a little harder and turned to him. She would have given anything to be able to stop somewhere and scream at the top of her lungs, but it would be reckless in this jungle. And Bonnet wouldn't let her anyway. Not after what had just happened. Brianna simply squeezed Jimmy’s hand in return and they kept walking until they reached a higher vantage point on the island.

Over an hour later, they had reached the heights and in other circumstances, they would have been amazed at the breathtaking view before them. But the victory was tarnished by the loss of their friend. With sad faces, they all dropped on the damp grass while waiting for Murphy to locate them using his map and his memories.

"Spring Bay is over there...", he said, pointing at a sea enclave between two stretches of land. “The Bottom is behind us. What we are looking for must be somewhere between us and the bay. In this direction."

"So that village over there is Hell's Gate?", Bonnet asked, looking at the roofs that could be seen near the cliffs. Murphy nodded. "And that, a little higher, what is it? It looks like an empty circle in the middle of the slope. No trees, no buildings…”

The carpenter put a hand above his eyebrows. "I don’t know. But it's worth taking a look, if you allow me a suggestion. Maybe that’s where the Gates of Hell open…”

Bonnet nodded, his lips pursed.

"I don't want to sound defeatist," said Boyle, looking at both men, "but how are we going to get there? There is no path, only trees..."

“We will create a path.”

Bonnet's tone was final and Boyle immediately closed his mouth, realizing that there was no arguing his orders. After a few sips of water, they sank into the vegetation, cutting as many branches and lianas as they could on the way, while watching for any reptile above their heads. Strangely, going down was no easier than going up. Their feet slid on the damp moss that covered the ground and the stones were not exactly solid grips in the loose soil. Each step had to be calculated, measured and executed with infinite attention.

The insects kicked up a hell of a racket but as they dived deeper and deeper into the forest, Brianna could have sworn she heard someone whisper. _The wind… it's just the wind in the leaves…_ Being extra careful at the sight of a big tangle of roots, she moved a few meters to one side to go around them and use them as a hold to go down a steep slope. She had almost succeeded when something moved close to her hand, between two roots. Something round, gooey, that gave a little sharp cry before jumping towards her face. Surprised by the big toad she had just disturbed, Brianna started back and her left foot skidded on the slippery stones. With a howl, she fell backwards in the vegetation and rolled all the way down the slope, only stopping when a thick bush slowed her down. Breathless and her back aching as Hell, she coughed loudly, while her first name echoed in the jungle from up above.

She rolled on her stomach, trying to catch her breath and winced in pain. No sailors were to be found and looking up, she saw that she had rolled down about fifty yards before being eaten up alive by the jungle. She was about to scream to reveal her position when she heard it again. The whisper. On the left, on the right, in front of her... It came out of nowhere and everywhere at once and this time, she could almost pick up _words_. Looking around, she saw her machete a few yards away and began to crawl to get it back. That's when she saw _one_. A white man, dirtier than a pig covered in mud, as stocky as a gorilla, was staring at her in the shade of a huge tropical plant with large leaves. His grimy face contrasted with the whiteness of his eyes and Brianna gasped when she discovered the rest of his head. One of his eyes seemed to be sinking inside his skull, while the other protruded over the cheekbone. The top of his head was strangely flat and his misaligned jaws did not close properly.

But what disgusted her the most was the hungry look he laid on her and the trickle of drool hanging from the corner of his lips. Brianna wanted to scream, but her voice got stuck in her throat. They both stood there, staring at each other without moving an inch for a few seconds, and as Brianna expected the sailors to come and scare away the horrible creature, she heard screams and a gunshot coming from above. As if he had been waiting for that signal, the man walked out of the vegetation and jumped on Brianna with a groan. She reached for her machete, but the man pulled her by the waistband of her pants and slid her towards him before pinning her flat-back to the ground. Screaming with pain, she felt her barely scabbed wounds reopen. The creature did not seem to pay much attention to her protests and pulled on the buttons of his old makeshift pants, revealing a dirty and smelly erect penis.

 _No, no, no…,_ Brianna whined internally, trying to crawl towards her weapon. But her attacker slapped her hard, stunning her for a few seconds. Just enough to give him time to unbutton the young woman's pants. Brianna's eyelids fluttered for a moment, and when she turned her head again to the beast above her, she saw the drool come off and slowly drip on the bare skin of her lower abdomen.

Kicking her feet, she tried to destabilize her opponent, but he just produced a disgusting cackle which she identified as... a laugh. With a hand that had only three fingers left, he came to caress her belly and Brianna felt ready to vomit. Grabbing a handful of dirt, she threw it in his face and as the man turned to rub his eyes, she squirmed and reached for her machete. Her fingers brushed past the handle when the islander's hands seized her pants to tear them off and she stretched out her arm as far as she could.

Whining desperately, she felt her attacker bring her back to him but it was too late. Her weapon was now in her hand and the blade swished through the air, sinking deeply in the creature's temple. He froze with a surprised look, his asymmetric eyes staring at her stupidly, his wet mouth opening and closing without a sound. Brianna released her legs and pulled the handle of the machete to remove it from his skull, before striking over and over again, screaming like a madwoman.

When she finally stopped to catch her breath, the man had not moved for a long time and his split skull revealed a sticky mass of blood, bone and gray matter. Brianna's blouse, pants and face were speckled with droplets of blood, projected by the repeated movements of the blade. Trembling, she mechanically buttoned up her pants and picked up her satchel a little further, when a noise in the thickets made her turn around. Another man, less deformed than the first one, but just as dirty and frightening, was staring at his fellow’s corpse with an indefinable expression. Brianna raised her machete in front of her and he turned his head to look straight into her eyes. Furious. Realizing that he was going to throw himself on her, Brianna turned on her heels and began to run, trying to put as much distance between her and the dirty homunculus.

She was running straight ahead, not knowing where she was going, just trying to avoid tripping over a root or knocking herself off with a branch. Every second could make a difference between life and death. Far up above, another gunshot snapped in the atmosphere and she knew that the sailors would be far too busy to come and save her. She could only rely on herself. _All the more reason to watch my step_..., she thought, jumping over the roots.

In the distance, the vegetation seemed to become less dense and she pushed harder on her legs. A silhouette rose out of a volcanic cavity on her right. She had been right assuming that a whole system of galleries was under their feet. She turned to the left and after yet another curtain of vegetation, suddenly tumbled into a sort of cave dug into the rock. She stopped, realizing that she had just thrown herself into the lion’s den. The cave was ‘furnished’, which meant that the walls had been cut to form shelves and niches to store objects or to be used as an oven or fireplace. Makeshift beds, made of woven lianas, were placed almost everywhere. When they saw her, other deformed creatures rose, ready to defend themselves. Behind her, her pursuers were closing in on her.

Brianna turned around, threatening them with her machete, before realizing that all of this had actually been skillfully orchestrated. The forest men had directed her to their lair. For a reason that was now more than obvious: tied by the neck like dogs on a leash, two naked white women were curled up in a corner of the cave, their prominent bellies leaving no doubt as to their delicate situation. When the women saw Brianna, they straightened up, their eyes wide and began to scream in Dutch: " _Alsjeblieft,_[ _je moet ons helpen_](https://context.reverso.net/traduction/neerlandais-francais/je+moet+ons+helpen) _! Alsjeblieft_!"

"Holy shit", Brianna swore, stepping back towards the cave’s entrance. These monsters did not want to kill or eat her. They were just trying to _breed_... One of them came a little too close and Brianna barked: "Back off! Back off or I swear to God, you’ll regret it!” In the back, the two captives were screaming louder, but Brianna could not set them free. Or they would all be prisoners _. I'm sorry_ …, she moaned internally, as she kept walking backwards. She was really starting to panic, when suddenly three figures appeared out of the jungle and ran, screaming, at the islanders. Boyle, Jimmy and Ayodeji each sunk their machetes in one man, while Brianna took advantage of the surprise to do the same with the one closest to her.

"Run, Miss Brianna!”, Jimmy yelled, while Boyle crushed one of the men’s skull with his boot.

The young woman didn’t need to be told twice and rushed to the exit, immediately chased by a hunchback who had come out of nowhere. She had already heard in History class about these lost islands where ancient societies got rid of the citizens they considered as "monsters" and it seemed that Saba was one of them. The worst of mankind’s genetic legacy had bred in isolation for decades, in the depths of the volcano, abandoned by all. She would have probably been moved by their fate if one of their fellows had not tried to rape her a few minutes earlier. But not now. She had covered two or three hundred meters since she had left the cave, when she had to stop. A bit further on, the path led to a precipice. Brianna looked up: she was in a huge circular hole inside the mountain, with a breathtaking view of the sky and the tropical sun. _The empty circle_..., she thought, as she remembered Murphy and Bonnet’s discussion as they studied the map. She leaned over the edge and saw that the bottom of the pit was filled with beautiful, deep blue water. "A cenote...", she whispered, smiling.

She had almost forgotten her pursuer, until he showed up behind her. The hunchback groaned and Brianna swung her machete towards him, with a threatening glance, but he didn't stop. Glancing down again, she decided it was better to risk her life and jump than joining the Dutch girls at the bottom of the cave. She glared at the hunchback and mumbled "Fuck off...", before turning to gather speed and jump.

She had just struck the ground one last time with her take-off foot, when she heard a gurgling sound behind her. Bonnet had appeared behind the hunchback and had slashed his throat with his knife. The last thing she heard before falling into the cenote was the pirate’s voice literally roaring her name.

The fall lasted for long seconds, during which she could only hear the air whistling in her ears. One second before impact, she stiffened to enter vertically into the water and took a deep breath. _The moment of truth_... The water was cold. Much colder than the ambient air. And as she sank at the speed of a cannonball into the depths of the cenote, Brianna was relieved her legs hadn’t broken against a rock. The water was deep, more than enough to jump from the promontory without getting injured. When her body stopped sinking, she opened her eyes and began to swim to the surface. Once her head was out, Brianna opened her mouth and took a deep breath. Looking up, she saw the stunned faces of Bonnet and a few other pirates leaning over the cenote.

"I'm fine!”, she yelled, as Stephen ran a weary hand over his face. She then pointed her finger to the sky. "Look where we are!!"

Boyle and Murphy followed the direction she indicated and burst out laughing. But the captain did not seem to find the situation very funny. Straightening up, he turned to the other sailors. They had just slaughtered a dozen men, each one more frightening than the other and they were all more or less covered in blood. A little further up the road, two men were approaching, bare-chested, as they had given their blouses to the two naked and pregnant women.

"Take them back to the ship”, Bonnet told them. “We will bring them back to Sint-Eustatius. Stay there with them and be careful on the way."

The two sailors nodded and with a few simple words of English, explained to the women that they were going to get them out of there. Bonnet turned back to the cenote and sighed. Brianna was swimming towards the bank, that seemed to lead to another cave in the depths of the mountain. "Now we have to find a way to get down..."

"Found it," Boyle said with a delighted smile. And without waiting for his captain's reaction, he let his satchel and his machete slide along the steep wall of the cenote, took a few steps backwards and threw himself into the water, screaming with joy like a teenager. He dived with an audible splash and Brianna greeted his performance with a laugh when he resurfaced. One by one, the sailors jumped under Bonnet's dumbfounded gaze. Murphy jumped last, throwing his maps and ration down the rock so as not to get them wet, patting the pirate's shoulder to give him courage.

In the meantime, Brianna had reached the bank and hoisted herself up in what looked like a huge natural cave. The water had soothed the burning pain in her back, but her wet blouse was now sticking unpleasantly to her wounds. She turned to Boyle, who was also coming out of the water and saw in his eyes that her wet garment revealed a lot more than intended. Without a corset or any underwear between the blouse and her chest, the bandages were the only thing that could hide her curves. But she already knew that the said bandages had been damaged by her attacker...

She crossed her arms over her chest and Boyle awkwardly looked away before turning to Bonnet, now alone at the top of the cenote. "Take your time, captain, I'm going to watch Miss Brianna and make sure she doesn't catch a cold... She’s freezing, from what I’ve seen..."

"What the hell are you doing? Do you want to die?", Brianna hissed.

Boyle smiled. "It will get him down..."

The sailor was right, but Bonnet did not get down the way he had expected. Refusing to dive into the water, Bonnet had let himself slide along the wall, clinging to protruding stones, roots and lianas, almost breaking his neck once or twice, under his men’s worried looks.

"Why didn't you just... jump into the water?", Brianna asked as he approached them, glaring murderously at Boyle. The captain did not answer her question and unbuttoned his waistcoat to give it to her.

"Put this on."

Brianna reached out to grab the garment. It was far too large for her, but offered better protection from prying eyes and she felt more comfortable. "Thank you. But you didn't answer my question."

He stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. “I didn’t want to wet my powder supply.” He patted the small purse hanging on his belt, near his pistol. The reason was certainly valid, but something told her that there was something else.

Around them, the sailors had scattered in the cavity in search of any clue that could suggest a treasure had been hidden somewhere around here. A little further in the depths of the cavity, water trickled along the walls and an underground river disappeared in another gallery. Brianna took the opportunity to fill her gourd and was soon imitated by the others. The river water was purer than anything she had ever tasted before, or maybe she was so thirsty that even stale water would have seemed delicious. Unfortunately, the bottom of the cave, where the river plunged deeper underground, was also a dead end.

"The river looks quite deep...", said Jimmy, laying on his stomach and trying to reach for the bottom with his arms. He dived his upper body under the water, and when he came out, his head dripping, he was smiling widely. “There is a passage under the rock. When you are underwater, you can see light on the other side. I’ll go and have a look."

Without hesitation, he slipped into the water stream and after taking a deep breath, pressed himself against the river bed to swim under the rock. For about thirty seconds, there was no noise. All the sailors were watching the river hoping to see the young cabin boy’s head reappear. But there was nothing.

"Jimmy?”, Brianna shouted. But no one answered her.

"Mr. Walsh!”, Stephen barked, and the brutal echo of his voice startled some of the sailors. "Answer me, it's an order!"

Brianna gave him a questioning look, as she felt in his voice that he was not in his normal state. But before she could think any further, Jimmy's voice, muffled and strangely distorted, was heard from the top of the cave. Brianna looked up and noticed a slightly lighter spot on the wall. She climbed up until she reached a small discreet hole, barely ten inches long.

"Jimmy, can you hear me?"

"Yes!"

Brianna sighed in relief. "What do you see?"

"There is a gallery on the other side!", the cabin boy explained as Brianna pressed her ear into the hole to hear him better. "I think we are on the right track, some loopholes have been carved into the rock to let the light in."

"How long to get out of the water and reach the surface?"

"I counted to twenty-five... It is not very long but the gallery dug by the river goes down before going up again. You have to hold on to the walls so as not to lose your bearings and follow them while swimming."

Brianna turned to the sailors with a smile. "There is a gallery on the other side. Twenty-five seconds maximum underwater..."

"There must be another way," Stephen barked abruptly as he walked along the wall looking for a way out.

"There's nothing, it's a dead end...", Brianna sighed. "Bellamy would not have bothered to hide his loot on this infernal island if it could be easily accessed..."

"What did you say?”, Jimmy asked on the other side.

"The captain is looking for another way!", Brianna yelled to keep him updated. Surprisingly, an embarrassed laugh rose in the gallery. Below, she heard Bonnet swear in a low voice.

"I can't get in the water with my weapon, it would be unusable...", he said stubbornly.

"Then we can pass it through the hole. With the powder, the maps and everything…”, Brianna suggested as Jimmy once again yelled “What?” on the other side. Brianna repeated her last words louder, then turned her attention back to Stephen, who seemed paler than usual. "Give it to me. Jimmy, are you ready to catch?"

A muffled "yes" came from the nearby gallery and Brianna motioned for Stephen to give her what he didn't want to get wet. Murphy gave her his satchel with the maps and his machete, while patting Stephen on the back again. Brianna frowned. Something was going on that she was obviously unaware of. Still, Stephen approached and hoisted himself up to Brianna. One by one, bags, rations, weapons and maps passed through the hole in the rock, received by Jimmy on the other side. There was a painful squeak when the heavy flintlock pistol landed in his fingers, but he did not drop it.

Meanwhile, the most daring sailors had dived into the river and disappeared under the rock. When Brianna had finally passed every item on the other side, only her, Murphy, Bonnet and Boyle were still in the cave. Boyle and Murphy exchanged a knowing look and the carpenter motioned for him to join the others. The young man pursed his lips apprehensively, but obeyed.

Brianna got back to the ground after passing her own stuff through the hole, and entered the icy river. The water should not be more than fourteen or fifteen degrees Celsius, which was twice less than the outside air, even if the cave was a little bit cooler. She was about to dive when she saw Stephen freeze and clench his fists. "What's the matter?"

He didn't answer, but his contracted jaw and feverish gaze spoke for him. _He is afraid...?,_ Brianna thought, taken aback. _Is he claustrophobic or something?_ She narrowed her eyes, suddenly remembering that he had also preferred the hard way down the cenote. _Is he afraid... of water?_ It seemed absolutely ridiculous for someone who spent most of his life at sea, but that was the only possible explanation. Gently, she reached out to him. "Come on... It's our turn. Everyone is already on the other side. Safe and sound."

But Bonnet made no move. He was staring at the point where the river disappeared in the bowels of the earth, completely paralyzed. Brianna looked at Murphy and she saw in the carpenter's eyes that the pirate’s fear was not a surprise to him. _A pirate with a phobia of water... He’s got to be fucking kidding me..._ Brianna came out of the river and stood in front of him, taking his face in her hands.

"Twenty-five seconds... not even half a minute...", she whispered, stroking the pirate's cheeks with her thumbs. "You'll be on the other side before you even realize it..." The Irishman's green eyes left the underground river to look at Brianna. "I will be there, right in front of you..."

"You don't understand...", he growled between his teeth.

"I know that a few seconds can seem endless when you are afraid, but think about what we will find over there..."

"It's the water...", he interrupted in a low voice. There was a glint of hysteria in his eyes and Brianna realized that fear was slowly but surely taking hold on him. "She calls for me... I already escaped her once. If she catches me, she won’t let go."

"Do you know who else won't let go?", Brianna said with a reassuring smile. "Me.” She pressed her forehead against his and whispered: "Twenty-five... seconds..."  
Slowly, she walked towards the water, her hands leaving Stephen's face to grab his wrists and drag him along. He resisted slightly but she did not let go, and they soon walked into the river, never breaking eye contact. He winced slightly when his legs entered the cold water, soon reaching his waist and then his shoulders. Beneath the surface, Brianna intertwined her fingers with Stephen's and smiled again. "Mr. Murphy will come after you. Whatever happens, you will always have someone to get you out of there. On one side or the other, it doesn't matter. But you _will_ get out."

"I'll be right behind you, _lad_...", the old man murmured with the familiarity that he only showed when they were alone. Brianna's heart literally melted when she heard him say _lad_ again, but she would surely not tell Bonnet that she had already caught them in this situation before.

"Ready? When I let you go, you will grab my foot and I will guide you to the other side. Just… try not to pull on it too much."

Stephen's gaze screamed that he was absolutely not ready at all, but she ignored him and filled up her lungs with air before disappearing beneath the surface. When her head was out of sight under the rock, a shiver of panic ran through the pirate’s spine, but he remembered what he had to do and grabbed Brianna's boot before diving in turn. A faint glow indicated where the exit was, but all around them, the gallery was pitch-dark. Even if she wasn’t particularly afraid, Brianna wished she had an underwater flashlight. Feeling the walls all around her was extremely oppressive and she began to experience mild claustrophobia. But Bonnet's hand around her ankle constantly reminded her of her mission.

Grasping the rocks with her hands, she progressed through the gallery, trying to stay as close as possible to the bottom so that her back, already too damaged to her liking, would not scrape against the ceiling. Even if she had been reassuring earlier, spending twenty-five seconds in this narrow, dark gallery filled with cold water, was quite frightening. She hadn't really thought about it, as Jimmy and the others had passed without any problem, but now that she was there, she admired the young boy's courage.

Finally, when her lungs seemed ready to explode, she emerged and immediately opened her mouth for oxygen. Then, pulling on Bonnet's hand, she guided him to the surface. His expression was heartbreaking, but he rushed out of the water to sit on the bank of the river and immediately showed a neutral face. Murphy also appeared and Brianna thanked him with a smile for his help. Boyle reached out to his captain to help him get up and grabbed his arm, while Jimmy handed him his pistol and powder with a beaming smile. Brianna also came out of the water and retrieved her satchel and machete. The sailors then rushed into the gallery, which was indeed lit by openings, high above their heads. Brianna was about to follow suit, when Bonnet's hand drew her against him.

A vague glimmer of terror still animated his eyes, but there was also a tremendous amount of gratitude. She was about to tell him there was no point in thanking her when he brought her face to his and kissed her. They probably looked like two wet dogs, with their hair and clothes dripping with cold water, but Brianna couldn't care less. She kissed him back passionately and for a minute, she almost forgot that she was about thirty yards underground, on a lost island in the middle of the Caribbean. But all good things come to an end and the pirate's lips eventually left hers. Back to reality. Brianna's eyelids opened and she saw that his usual sly smile was back.

"Well, how about we find this treasure? You're slowing us down, darlin’..."

Brianna chuckled and rolled her eyes, following the crew into the gallery.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Soooo what do you think of this chapter?? We lost Flaherty but beat the crap out of the people below. Did you think they were scary enough? I wanted them to be a The Hills Have Eyes-kind-of-monster and I hope they gave you the creeps! (If you haven’t seen that movie, Halloween is not so far away… add it to your list). And finally, our cute captain freaking out about going into the water... It's a side of Bonnet that has always fascinated me and that adds even more depth to his character. A pirate who has a phobia of water… At first, I was thinking: are you kidding me?? But when you think about it: he is terrified of water but he spends his life at sea, he does everything not to be integrated into society by being a criminal and yet he’s kind of jealous of ‘normal’ rich people and wants to be part of the bourgeoisie... He deceives and betrays the people he meets, and yet he’s desperately hoping to be loved. He’s all contradictions and dilemmas, and that's what I love about his character...**

**I can’t wait to read your comments, and until then I wish you a wonderful week ! See you next Monday!**

**Xérès**


	15. Hùg Air A’ Bhonaid Mhòir’

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**The previous chapter was full of adventure and I'm glad you enjoyed it! I had so much fun writing it! Chapter 15 will be much less gloomy, but it has its fair share of surprises... I hope you'll like it!**

**Thanks all of you who read, commented and kudozed!**

**oOo**

  1. _Hùg Air A’ Bhonaid Mhòir’_ (Celebrate the Big Bonnet)



The gallery followed the river on several hundred yards and was wide enough for them to walk easily. Sometimes, the ceiling was too low and forced them to dive in the cold water again, but only up to the waist to the captain’s relief. After a while, the passage widened and they reached another cave. Judging by the few puddles of water at the opposite end and by the awful din, the waves were probably crashing on the rocks nearby. The exit was blocked by a massive scree, as if someone had deliberately caused a landslide higher on the mountain to seal the cave from the outside.

Along the walls, countless crates, chests and barrels of all sizes were stacked on top of each other in total anarchy. Brianna rushed to a crate and opened it, using the blade of her machete as a lever. "Holy shit...", she breathed, plunging her hands into a huge pile of gems. Sapphires, rubies, emeralds, pearls, jasper, lapis lazuli, mother-of-pearl, diamonds of all shapes and sizes rolled between her fingers. Their facets captured the rare rays of light that filtered inside the cave, reflecting a thousand iridescent, almost hypnotic colors.

Behind her, Boyle and Jimmy had opened a barrel, which was filled with gold coins, and started screaming out of sheer joy. The other sailors imitated them and soon the whole cave echoed with cheers. Silverware, precious stones, gold, jewelry, fabrics and works of art: each container held its share of wonders. Bellamy had certainly not planned to leave them there for so long, the cave was only a temporary storage, but his death had thrown his loot into oblivion... condemning some of the most fragile goods. The fabrics were mostly unusable and the paintings had been devoured by humidity, but the rest (or at least what would be essential to Bonnet and MacNamara) was preserved.

Brianna took advantage of the fact that everyone was jigging around to grab a few handfuls of gems and put them into her satchel. First, because she didn’t want MacNamara to get all the treasure without even lifting a finger, and also because she would certainly need something to buy her way back to Wilmington.

"Easy, gentlemen!", Bonnet suddenly shouted. Although he shared his crew’s joy, they were not out of the woods yet and he always refused to lose control of the situation before everything was over. "We still have to find a way to get all those crates out of here. Because we won’t obviously carry them through the galleries and let alone underwater..."

"Bellamy must have left something to get out of here before sealing the cave...", Brianna said, looking around. “There’s always one way in and one way out.” The sailors imitated her, rummaging through the crates they had not opened, and after a few minutes one of them called his captain.

"There are powder kegs, here... and tools..."

"How is the powder?", Bonnet asked as he approached.

"One of the kegs got damp and is now damaged, but the others seem intact..."

The pirate thought for a moment. “Place two kegs at different levels in the landslides and keep one to create a line."

A few "Yes, captain" burst out all over the cave and the sailors bustled about preparing their exit. Less than twenty minutes later, the device was ready and Bonnet asked everyone to hide in one of the opposite corners of the cave, protected from the trajectory of the blast that would be caused by the explosion. The explosive charge was not big enough to blow everything to smithereens, but it would clear part of the scree and they would just have to finish the job using the pickaxes. The pirates then moved the crates containing the most precious items to safety, leaving only what could not be used or sold behind.

Once the line of powder was on the ground, Bonnet loaded his flintlock pistol, placed a few pebbles around a small pile of powder, and fired his gun. The lead ball hit the pebbles and created a shower of sparks which immediately ignited the powder and he ran to join the rest of the group, curled up on the ground. He dropped to Brianna's side and pulled her head against his chest to protect her. Brianna rolled her eyes in amusement, before getting in a fetal position, her hands pressed against her ears. The seconds before the blast seemed endless and many had to resist the urge to straighten up and see if the flame would soon reach its goal. Suddenly there was a strange hiss, then a silence.

Jimmy winced. "Captain, I think it didn't-"

The end of his sentence was lost in the explosion and all of them instinctively flattened themselves to the ground, hands clenched over their heads. A cloud of acrid white smoke immediately filled the cave while some of the stones sealing the exit were thrown both inside and outside. The smoke was so thick and suffocating that Brianna coughed, convinced she was going to leave a lung behind in the adventure. One after the other, the sailors straightened up, throwing curious glances towards the scree and tucking their heads in their shoulders each time a new stone fell and rolled on the ground. Once the smoke had dissipated a little, Brianna saw the ocean through the new holes they had just created. The scree had not completely disappeared, but it was much lower and much more fragile than earlier.

"Everyone takes a pickaxe or a shovel, we need enough space to get the crates out of here," Bonnet barked as the sailors ran to the tools. Brianna was about to imitate them, but the pirate stopped her with one hand. "Not you. From now on, you are officially on holiday."

Brianna smiled. "On holiday?” He nodded and she laughed cheerfully. "I like the sound of that... But you can't officially be on holiday without a party."

"A party?"

"A feast. You know, with music, friends and way too much alcohol...", Brianna mocked.

He smiled. “I don’t see why not. And I know the perfect place to do that."

Brianna raised her eyebrows, inviting him to reveal his secret.

"Tortuga," he replied as if it were obvious. The young woman smiled and nodded. From what she had understood from the various stories she had heard about the place, the island was to pirates what Florida was to spring breakers. There was only one difference: it was spring break every single day of the year on Tortuga de Mar.

"I thought we couldn’t keep MacNamara waiting..."

Bonnet darkened slightly, but shrugged. "We will already be more than twenty-four days late... Besides, the island is on our way back north. We won’t even have to make a detour."

In front of them, one of the sailors took down part of the stones, clearing enough space for a grown man to get out. Bonnet stepped forward and ordered two of his men to follow the coast until they found the _Gloriana_ and to ask O’Brien to get the ship closer to the cave. They would drop the anchor away from the rocks and then send rafts up there to load the loot. The rock formed a small flat esplanade in front of the cave’s entrance, and a small barrier of coral and underwater volcanic stone broke the biggest waves further away. With calm weather like today, the rafts would have no trouble coming up here.

Boyle and another man therefore left on foot while the others finished clearing the path. A few hours later, the crates were waiting on the natural esplanade and the first raft docked to load them, with Mulligan on board. The man came to check that the loot was being loaded according to Bonnet’s and MacNamara’s agreement. Leaving the raft, he took an appreciative look at the various crates, lifting a lid here and there to assess the contents, before looking for Bonnet. He found him quite easily, as the pirate was busy making his prisoner spin at the bottom of the cave, as if they were rehearsing some kind of grotesque dance movement. The girl was laughing and Bonnet himself was grinning widely. Mulligan groaned, already aware that his employer would not like that at all. The pirate was good at his job mainly because he had no ties and nothing to protect than himself. The girl was valuable for their business, but she would also turn out to be a liability. He had to admit that his employer had had a good intuition about her and the orders he had given before they left Philadelphia were no coincidence.

_If that girl really knows the location of several treasures, then she’s the only thing that matters. When you will be in possession of Bellamy’s loot, please remind Mr. Bonnet of his commitment. But if he's already infatuated with her before you get back, get rid of him. Cause a mutiny, kill him, abandon him on an island, I don't give a damn. As long as you bring that clever whore back to Philadelphia._

Mulligan observed the said whore and her pirate frolicking in the cave for a moment longer, and understood that MacNamara had been right. Bonnet had grown fond of that girl at a yet unequaled speed for a man of his kind. They would therefore be forced to have an unpleasant discussion. It could even end badly. The henchman waited until all the crates had been brought back to the _Gloriana_. When Brianna and the last sailors remaining were on the raft that would bring them all back to the ship, Mulligan grabbed Bonnet's arm and dragged him apart.  
"Do I have to remind you of your commitment to Mr. MacNamara, Captain Bonnet?"

Bonnet narrowed his eyes and quickly released himself from his grip. "Mr. MacNamara will have his share of the loot as we agreed. As for the _other_ part of the deal, I was planning to renegotiate..."

His tone had become threatening and Mulligan must have felt it too, as he put a hand on his pistol. From the raft, Brianna saw that something was wrong and got up.

"Mr. MacNamara is not the kind of man you can renegotiate a deal with...", growled Mulligan, his hand still resting on his weapon. Ready to cock it. Stephen deduced that it was already loaded, unlike his own.

“The situation has changed.”

Mulligan glanced briefly at Brianna. "Yours, probably. But I’m sure if I tell your little slut about your arrangement, she will hate you just as much as she was when you two met... And your _situation_ will be back to normal. The natural order of things will be restored and the young and erudite beauty will despise the vile pirate all over again."

At these words, anger wasn’t the only thing that darkened Bonnet's eyes. Fear. The fear of reading disappointment in the young woman’s blue eyes, the fear that she wouldn’t forgive him this umpteenth betrayal. And if there was one thing Mulligan should have known, it was that there was nothing more dangerous than a scared predator.

"Is everything alright?”, asked Brianna, approaching them.

"Not that it concerns you, woman!", Mulligan spat, and Bonnet flinched as he heard him speak to her like that. He was reaching for his knife when Brianna made a strange gesture with her hand. Clenching her fist except for the middle finger, she spat a harsh "Asshole!" to Mulligan's face, who seemed both surprised and irritated by the insult. He slapped her and Brianna fell onto the slippery rocks. Her satchel opened and some of the gems she had stolen scattered on the ground. Meanwhile, Bonnet had pulled out his knife, but the sight of the stolen gems stopped him dead in his tracks. Brianna looked at the precious stones, then Bonnet, then Mulligan, while Stephen’s eyes went from the gems, to Brianna, then to their opponent.

"You filthy little thief...", Mulligan yelled, this time drawing his pistol. But he didn't go any further. Bonnet seized the opportunity to stick his knife up to the hilt in the man’s chest before turning it ninety degrees into the wound for a better result. A trickle of blood escaped Mulligan's lips, as the pirate pulled out his weapon to strike him half a dozen more times. He was already dead when his knees touched the ground and he collapsed face down on the rocks. Brianna had watched the entire scene, her eyes wide with terror. Everything had been so quick, so violent, that she still had trouble realizing what she had just witnessed.

As if he had just peeled a peach and not murdered a man – no matter how bad – Stephen leaned over the corpse and quietly wiped the bloodstained blade on Mulligan’s clothes. When it was clean enough, he put it back in its scabbard and turned to Brianna. She jumped, expecting him to be mad at her too, but he seemed perfectly calm. So much so that it was almost frightening. _No, not ‘almost’_. She swallowed when he reached out to help her get up and took his hand hesitantly.

"You... you’re not angry? About that?”, she asked, pointing at the gems.

He smiled and shrugged, shaking his head. "Why would I be? ... I would have done the exact same thing if I were you, darlin’. You would make a good pirate, you know?”, he added, shaking his bloodstained index finger under her nose.

Brianna relaxed slightly, before her eyes were drawn to Mulligan’s body and she shuddered. "Both of MacNamara's men are dead... How are we going to justify that?"

"Two of my men are also dead... There will be nothing to justify at all," Bonnet replied darkly. He bent down and took a few gems between his fingers, watching them for a moment before placing them in Brianna's palm. "Keep them, you deserved them after all."

The young woman smiled and crouched to collect the rest.

"By the way... what was that thing you did with your hand?”, he asked, trying to mimic the finger that Brianna had given Mulligan a few minutes earlier. Brianna's eyes widened and she let out an embarrassed laugh.

"Oh... this is something from my neighborhood in Boston. All young people do it..." But the explanation did not seem enough for Bonnet, who was still waiting for the actual meaning. Brianna pursed her lips. "It symbolizes... a finger up the ass."

There was a silence, during which Stephen looked at her with amusement, then he shook his head. "Three parents and absolutely no education..."

"Says the man who just stabbed another to death for… no reason?”, she grumbled, as she finished picking up her stones.

“I’m an orphan and had to educate myself. What’s _your_ excuse…?”

Brianna rolled her eyes and after a last glare at Mulligan's body, which they certainly wouldn't bother to throw into the sea, she got back on the raft.

~o~

To Brianna's surprise, Bonnet was serious when he had offered to stop over at Tortuga Island on the way back. Thus, after leaving the two women captured by the troglodytes on Sint-Eustatius, the _Gloriana_ had set sail for Saint-Domingue, the French territory on the island of Hispaniola. Finding the treasure had galvanized the crew and every face was beaming with joy, especially at nightfall when the sailors had poured themselves a few glasses of whiskey. Bonnet did not even call them to order and the four days to Tortuga de Mar were a fabulous festival of drinking songs and sea shanties.

Brianna also smiled constantly as their good mood was contagious. She was quite scared to go back to Philadelphia and face MacNamara, but they were not there yet. Either way, they had no choice. She turned her head towards the upper deck, where Stephen had just given O’Brien the helm and was looking at her with the strange, thoughtful and almost sad expression he was regularly wearing since they had left Saba. She was sure it had something to do with his last conversation with Mulligan and she had tried to ask him about it, but to no avail. The subject was carefully avoided as soon as she brought it up and she eventually gave up. The way he touched her had also changed. When they made love, she could feel his hands painfully squeeze her body, as if he feared she would disappear all of a sudden. Maybe finding the treasure was some kind of deadline for him that marked the beginning of something else? Or maybe he was planning to set her free at last? Brianna didn't believe it for a second. What man in his right mind would liberate a woman he had bought, who possibly knew the location of several treasures _and_ who happened to be slowly but surely falling for him? The answer was simple: none. And Brianna couldn’t blame him. She still wanted to find her parents, but the prospect of leaving Stephen was not as tempting as it had once been. Not at all, even. It would be heartbreaking, but necessary. Claire and Jamie's lives depended on it.

When they arrived on the island, the sailors dispersed in small groups and Brianna followed Bonnet and the “youth” team, as she called them in her mind. Some old volunteers had stayed on the ship to rest and watch the loot, even if the unspoken code that regulated Tortuga prohibited stealing from other pirates within the perimeter of the island. The place was exactly as Brianna had imagined it. A sort of gigantic open-air gambling den, where all the pirates, filibusters and corsairs of the North and South Atlantic came to indulge in all earthly pleasures and pastimes, as well as to meet in times of crisis. All nationalities and cultures crossed like no other place on Earth. British, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Italian, African, all languages and dialects were spoken in the crowded streets. The air smelled of spices and food from all over the world, and all kinds of music could be heard in the various taverns. A lot of Africans also roamed free on the island, without fear of being captured, sold or beaten, since every human being here was free. Many were pirates themselves, but given the number of women present, Brianna concluded that entire families were living here, away from slavers. Unfortunately, the island would eventually get back under French control... putting an end to this haven of peace.

Brianna's stomach rumbled loudly: the sight of dozens and dozens of taverns and small food stalls made her hungry. She wanted to stop in each and every one of them and taste everything she could, but she had no money to spend. As if he had read her mind, Bonnet handed her a purse and she literally snatched it from his fingers to run towards an African woman’s stall, on a street corner. Bonnet saw her talk to the young woman for a while, then hand her some food on a large white cake. Brianna paid and came back to him, eating a piece of avocado with her fingers, then a small black sausage, with a groan of pleasure.

"These cassava pancakes… brilliant idea. You use it as a plate and then, you can eat it!”, she explained, swallowing a grilled vegetable under the men’s amused looks. "I won’t eat it right away, though. I’ll probably buy something else after that..."

"You do realize that people will think I am not feeding my crew if they see you stuffing yourself like that?", he grumbled, stealing a small sausage from her pancake.

Brianna went out of his reach and frowned.

"I love Flanagan... and I respect everything he prepares for us...", she swallowed a vegetable, then a huge shrimp topped with a bright red sauce. "But… you know what I mean... Oh my God, _turrón_."

The next moment she was gone, returning with a large, round, white cake that looked very much like her cassava cake, but with almonds. With unimaginable speed, she swallowed the last grilled vegetables, as well as the last shrimp, and handed her last purchase to Bonnet. “Make small pieces so that everyone can taste. It’s a kind of Spanish nougat."

Bonnet complied with a sigh and once everyone had taken a bite, Brianna gobbled up her own with another sigh of ecstasy. "I'm going back to that Spanish guy: I saw only too late that he’s got some ham..."

"But you just ate dessert...", Boyle exclaimed.

Brianna gave him a questioning look, as if she didn't understand the connection between eating something sweet and not being able to eat ham afterwards. “So?”, she shrugged, already going back to the stall.

The sun was setting when Brianna finally got tired of galloping from one stall to another. They ended up sitting in an English tavern, much to Brianna’s displeasure: somewhere in the neighborhood, she could hear the frenzied rhythm of tom-toms and was literally dying to have a look. But Bonnet had ordered a drink and insisted on paying another tribute to Flaherty, whose body had been thrown into the sea on the way. They poured down a few pints of beer, glasses of whiskey and rum for a few hours as they talked, but the more Brianna drank, the more she felt an irrepressible desire to sneak out and follow the trail of percussions. And judging by the sparkle in Ayodeji's eyes on the other side of the table, she was not the only one. Pretending an urgent need, she went to the tavern door and discreetly motioned for Ayodeji to follow her. Less than a minute later, so as not to arouse suspicion, he joined her outside and they ran off, chuckling and staggering, in the direction of the music.

The musicians were not far from there, on the beach, surrounded by torches burning in the night. A few black men in traditional costume were sitting in the sand, beating their instruments in rhythm, while three women danced in front of them, waving small fans made of feathers. The bracelets around their ankles and wrists produced little clicking sounds with each movement and broad smiles lit up their faces.

The contrast with the desperation she had seen on the faces of all the other Africans she had encountered in America was striking. Ayodeji probably thought the same thing, a smile floating on his lips, and Brianna assumed their new recruit would certainly not go back on the _Gloriana_ the next day. And she would make sure that Bonnet had nothing to say about it.

"In my village, women danced like this to ensure good harvests!”, exclaimed the former slave to cover the noise.

"Does it work?"

"Yes, it does, miss. Nature herself would not dare to contradict our women."

Brianna laughed and turned her attention to the frantic gestures of the dancers. The noise of the tom-toms echoed in her rib cage with incredible strength, and she soon felt herself moving in rhythm.

"Two quick kicks forward with the right foot, then bring the left foot closer. Right foot again, then the left foot... And move your shoulders."

Her tongue stuck between her lips and lifting her skirt to have a better look at her movements, Brianna followed Ayodeji’s instructions and even if she was ridiculously stiff and slow, she managed to speed up after a while. The young man laughed. "Not bad…"

"You mean for a white girl who’s as stiff as a board!", Brianna added, laughing and although he didn’t say anything, Ayodeji's smile indicated that this was probably how he had finished the sentence in his own head. Brianna tried for a moment to follow the dancers’ steps, until the women crouched, legs apart, to perform another series of frenzied movements. "Aaaand that’s when I declare myself officially defeated...", she laughed, admiring the physical performance.

"I have not met a lot of white people who enjoy our music...", Ayodeji said suddenly, his eyes on the dancers. He then turned to Brianna and added: "As I have not met a lot of white people who think things will get better for us."

Brianna was not sure what to answer and just gave him a shy smile. "I said that to reassure you, at the market..."

"That was not my impression, Miss. Something in your eyes told me you already knew it.”

The young woman pursed her lips and the music stopped briefly, while the dancers took turns and resumed on a different rhythm.

"The sailors also told me that you were the one who knew where the treasure was...", he went on, lowering his voice, and he knew at her embarrassed expression that he had put a finger on something. "Do not worry, Miss, I will not tell anyone. Our people respect those who have special gifts, such as seeing things that others do not. Our sorcerers are the pillars of our society. Unlike yours who are hunted down and drowned or burnt at the stake."

Brianna looked relieved and smiled. Even if he attributed her a gift of foresight that she did not have, he understood that she was not like everyone else and he respected that. "Thank you, Mr. Ayodeji."

"Does your Master know?"

Brianna winced, realizing that he had taken Bonnet's joke – about her being the only one who could call him Master – at face value. "Not really," she muttered.

Ayodeji nodded and turned back to the musicians and their dancers. This time, the dance looked like a very dynamic twist, while lifting the legs to the sides, but Brianna felt like she knew the basics. A little girl, who had been watching her from afar, couldn't take it anymore to see Brianna ruining the dance of her people. Placing herself next to her and pulling up her own skirt with an exasperated sigh, the girl started to show her exactly how to move. Ayodeji burst out into laughter, just before he noticed the young woman with the child, probably her older sister. She seemed to be about his age and was staring intensely at him.

"Is she your _mistress_?", she asked defiantly. As if she was proclaiming loud and clear that she would cut their discussion short if he turned out to be a slave.

"No", Ayodeji replied, watching Brianna dance with the little girl, her skirt raised up above her knees. "It is thanks to her that I am a free man."

The African’s dark eyes flared up and she smiled. Behind them, the dancers started to sing and the rhythm of the music sped up even more. Brianna and the girl were now dancing madly, laughing, under the curious eyes of the White pirates walking along the beach. And especially a group of pirates, coming out of a nearby tavern. As Brianna and Ayodeji had not reappeared, the others had gone out looking for them. As she spun around with her small dance teacher, Brianna caught Bonnet's eye and smiled at him before spinning again, her crazy hair whipping the air behind her back. But despite the darkness, when she was able to look at him again, she saw the same sad expression he had been wearing for the past few days. Thanking the little girl for her teaching, Brianna left her and trotted up to Stephen, her legs wobbling from the alcohol and the dancing.

"I’m not saying I was bored, but the ambiance in that tavern was non-existent...", she said as an excuse, before grabbing the pirate's jacket to stabilize herself. "These damn English could not dance even if their lives depended on it."

"The English, for sure, but we Irish people have dance in our blood!”, Boyle bellowed, brandishing his index finger to the sky, obviously drunk.

" _They_ have dance in their blood!", replied Brianna on the same tone, pointing at the dancers. "You guys just hop up and down with your arms alongside your body!"

"This little rascal is insulting us!", Boyle whined. "Captain, do something! Such an insolent behavior cannot be tolerated!"

"I lost the battle against her insolence a very long time ago...", Bonnet mumbled with a smile. "But I say we teach her a lesson. There should be some Irish musicians around here…”

"Wait, I have something to do first!” Without waiting for an answer, Brianna went back to Ayodeji, who was still chatting with the pretty girl who had approached him. Bonnet saw them exchange a few words, then hug for a few seconds. When she walked away from him, Ayodeji looked at Bonnet and solemnly nodded. Stephen nodded back, understanding that his new recruit would not come back anytime soon. _Good for him_ , he thought, glancing at the girl next to him. A life of freedom was offered to the young man. The opportunity to have his own family perhaps, or his own land. And as Brianna came back to him, Stephen Bonnet couldn’t help but feel a hint of jealousy.

"Well? Let’s find those musicians!”, she said as Boyle led the way, determined to find the craziest Irish dancers in Tortuga.

~o~

It was already late in the night and despite the coming dawn, many locals and sailors still roamed the streets in search of a new distraction that would keep them awake until morning.

"A little help would be appreciated!”, O’Brien whined, feeling Boyle’s body gently slide off his back. Jimmy and Doherty rushed over to him, passing the drunk sailor's arms over their shoulders to let the first man rest. Behind them, Bonnet hadn’t even heard his cry for help: holding Brianna by the hand, he was trying to make her spin around ceaselessly to the sound of an imaginary music.

They were still dancing when the others climbed up the walkway that led to the _Gloriana’s_ deck, dropping poor drunken Boyle on the floor with a sigh of relief. Dance and booze had made Brianna dizzy and she tripped over Boyle's leg. She would have toppled over if Bonnet hadn't caught her. Without even a look or a word for their companions, they went down to their cabin, and the sailors would probably have felt insulted and ignored if their captain did not seem so happy.

"What now? Shall we leave him here?”, Doherty asked O’Brien, tapping Boyle’s leg with his foot.

"We're in the Caribbean, he’s not going to catch a cold..." O’Brien leaned forward to pat Boyle's stomach, who groaned in his sleep. "Good night, mate."

In the corridor, Brianna and Stephen tiptoed to the cabin so as not to wake up the most reasonable sailors, before locking themselves in, chuckling like teenagers. The young woman jumped on the pirate and wrapped her legs around his waist to kiss him. When she finally abandoned his lips, she smiled, her eyes sparkling.

“Thank you…”

"What for?”, Stephen wondered, seating her on the table.

"This unforgettable evening... night… whatever…" She laughed. "It was great. And... a few weeks ago, I never thought I would say that one day but...", she suddenly raised her index finger and winced. "Even if you bought me, threatened me and terrorized me... at first… Things are different now.” Brianna kissed him again briefly, and added: "I'm glad our paths have crossed."

The pirate smiled strangely, as if her words had upset and moved him at the same time. "Even if I’m keeping you away from your parents?", he mumbled, backing away slightly. Alcohol made her talk nonsense and even if she felt happy at that moment, that didn’t necessarily mean that she would still be tomorrow. The young woman bit her lip, as if to avoid telling a truth that he would not want to hear. But her slight intoxication gave her crazy ideas and before she had had time to analyze her thought, she had spoken it out loud.

"Maybe we could find them together?", she suggested, laughing at his incredulous expression: " _If_ we are still alive after Philadelphia..."

The pirate’s face was once again indescribable and Brianna would have been unable to tell if he was happy, sad, angry or if he thought her proposition ridiculous. So much so that she preferred to break the heavy silence, even if it meant saying things that she would regret.

"You must think I’m crazy... but for weeks, all I could think about was running away from you... and now I'm almost begging you not to leave me.” She let out a sarcastic laugh, hoping to lighten the mood, but Bonnet still didn't move and she felt her heart miss a beat. She had talked too much. She was making a fool of herself and he would soon laugh at her and remind her that his only intention was to have fun with her.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, he brought his face to hers and kissed her with such unprecedented tenderness that Brianna backed off her head and stared at him in amazement. "Is that a ‘yes’?”, she asked, her heart racing.

He smiled slightly and shrugged. "I will think about it on our way to Philadelphia..."  
Brianna smiled too. He had said the exact same thing before deciding whether to go to Cape Cod or not. _And we went_... With a chuckle, she pulled him against her, sensing he had already made his mind. And he had. But not in the way she expected.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**We finally got rid of Mulligan (sorry, man, you will not be missed), but Bonnet still has to honor his deal with MacNamara if he doesn’t want to have all the Irish mob on his heels… A few weeks ago, he hadn't imagined for a second he would become attached to Brianna and he was ready to give her to MacNamara, but today everything has changed and he knows that this will only get him into trouble… And now Brianna is considering bringing Stephen back to Fraser's Ridge… What did you think of this chapter? What are your theories for the future?**

**I hope you enjoyed this and I can’t wait to read your comments! Until then, I wish you a great week and see you next Monday !**

**Xérès**


	16. Amhrán Na Farraige

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Hang on your seatbelts, this chapter will rock! After a night of celebration in Tortuga, it’s time to set sail again...  
Hope you enjoy this chapter, I loved writing it! Feel free to leave a little comment after you read, this is the only way you can thank me for hours and hours of work every week! Love you and enjoy this new chapter!**

**Thank you all of you who read, commented and kudozed the previous chapter!**

**oOo**

  1. _Amhrán Na Farraige_ (Song of the sea)



Stephen was already steering when Brianna woke up with the worst of hangovers, and she wondered how the pirate’s body could still function properly. With the sea and its dangers, the bad whiskey and cigars, the unhealthy eating, the red coats on his heels and the constant sleep deprivation, any man would have died of exhaustion before reaching his thirties. And yet, when she joined him on the upper deck, he was as rested and refreshed as any other morning. _Unlike me_..., she groaned internally, seizing the banister of the upper deck staircase. She didn't know if it was the hangover or if the sea was less calm than usual, but the ship was swaying dangerously under her feet.

"The sea is quite rough this morning, isn't it?”, she asked, hoisting herself up to him.

The captain laughed. "It is the middle of the afternoon, darlin’... We left Tortuga more than four hours ago."

Brianna rolled her eyes, somewhat amazed by her recent ability to sleep soundly despite the chaos of departures, the creaking of the hull and the incessant ruckus of the ocean around them. And it wasn't the only thing she had gotten used to: hands clinging to the railing, she let her knees and hips follow the movements of the hull, so that she seemed almost as stable and unruffled as the captain and the other sailors. However, it was definitely not her hangover that was playing tricks on her: the _Gloriana_ cracked louder than usual and the ocean was also noisier. Not to mention the temperature and humidity that had turned the air into a real steam bath.

"Bad weather is coming, isn't it?”, she asked, already knowing the answer.

"The east wind is gettin’ stronger every hour, the swell too... I hope we’ll be able to proceed north of the storm, but yes, the situation could get complicated..."

He had said that in a reassuring tone, but she now knew him well enough to understand he was worried. _Otherwise he would have joked about it_. As she began to analyze him, he turned his attention back to the open sea and changed the subject.

"Do your parents live in Wilmington?"

Brianna shook her head. "No, they have a house in a place called Fraser's Ridge, but I don't know exactly where it is... I had heard of a woman who had operated on a man right in the middle of a theater performance. But I was kidnapped and taken to the Caribbean before I could do any other research…" She pursed her lips, mentally reviewing her parents’ obituary and the names that appeared on it, especially Hector Cameron, who was Jamie’s uncle. "I also have family in River Run, the Camerons. I thought I would start there since it's only a few hours from Wilmington."

She saw Bonnet flinch and stare at her in amazement and… disappointment? It was impossible to say. "You’re related to the Camerons of River Run?", he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It would seem so. Why do you ask?"

He shrugged and shook his head. "No reason.” But he was clearly holding something back and she suddenly understood what annoyed Bonnet so much when she used to filter the information she gave him. "Jocasta Cameron is a wealthy heirless widow, who owns one of the largest plantations in North Carolina. Old bachelors crowd around her to marry her and take control of her possessions… Some time ago, I heard that she wanted to make her nephew her heir, but something happened. His wife wanted to save the life of a slave who had maimed a foreman, and she caused a revolt. It was Wilmington’s most discussed event for at least a week..."

"It does look like something my mom would do...", Brianna muttered with a smirk.

"It still cost them a huge plantation and a lot of gold, if what they say about the Camerons’ fortune is true."

"I don't think my mother would have liked to own such a property and I'm sure she doesn't care about a slave owner’s gold...", she snapped. She had never met her aunt Jocasta, but if Bonnet was telling the truth, she didn’t really want to anymore.

"If your mother doesn't want the gold, I’ll be more than happy to take it..."

"Your holds are literally filled with gold, and now you also need my aunt's?", she laughed.

He shrugged with obvious bad faith. "I just wanted to help..."

Brianna rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to the increasingly tumultuous ocean. In the north, where they were headed, the sky was still blue as far as the eye could see and she hoped that it would stay that way. In the east, however, huge cumulonimbus gathered above the horizon.

"Were you serious last night?", Bonnet asked and the young woman turned to look at him again.

"About what?"

"When you suggested to look for your parents together."

Brianna nodded, however noting the Irishman’s dark face. "Yes... I guess. Is that a problem?"

"I don’t think they will be too pleased to know I bought and dishonored their daughter..."

"You did not _dishonor_ me...", she sighed, rolling her eyes. She hated men’s obsession about women's honor. The last verse on honor she had heard was Roger’s: he had insulted her for not wanting to marry him as a virgin, when himself had been shamelessly chasing women for years. She had no desire to hear another one of those speeches and let alone from a lawless pirate, for God’s sake!

"Your father will probably disagree on that point."

Brianna shook her head. "I don't know much about him, but... my mother always told me that he was an understanding man... ahead of his time, even…”, she smiled at her own joke. “Anyway, it’s my body and I decide what to do with it. And my father, or any man in the entire world, has no say in the matter.”

Brianna looked down, gritting her teeth. Frank would never have criticized her for dating boys and having fun. He just wanted her to be happy and never have any regrets. As for Jamie… she couldn’t imagine her mother with a man who would value such outdated principles.

"I like the way you think...", Bonnet answered with a grin.

Brianna giggled, as a violent wave hit the galleon, and she clung to the railing so as not to lose her balance.

"I’d feel better if you went back downstairs...", he winced. "Try to wedge anything that could move and injure you, and don’t light any candle, even in lanterns. If you find some, blow them out."

She nodded. " _Yes, captain_. What about you? Will you be fine?”, she asked, and he laughed at her face.

"I don't know, darlin’, this is my very first storm, you see..."

She narrowed her eyes, realizing he was making fun of her and turned to go back to the cabin. "You’re hilarious..."

Bonnet's laughter was soon stifled by the ruckus inside the _Gloriana_ 's womb. The whole ship cracked, creaked, whined, as if it was already afraid of the coming storm. On the way, Brianna passed by a few sailors who were making sure all their belongings were properly stored and blowing out candles, progressively plunging the ship into darkness. Everyone was preparing for a difficult evening – or even night.

Once in the cabin, Brianna placed all small items in the desk drawers. It was securely fixed to the ground with rivets and would not move. The various chests containing part of Bonnet's personal loot were also too heavy to be moved by the swell. All she had to do was taking care of the table and the chairs, which she did before lying down on the bunk to rest for a while before the storm. But the bunk was not designed to be used with such weather. Which was quite logical in a way, since the captain was supposed to be working and watching over his crew during storms. Another wave almost threw her to the ground and she gave up, going out into the corridors, looking for something useful to do or candles to blow out. She walked past the crew's dormitories, where the hammocks were dancing softly in mid-air, when a familiar voice called her.

"Miss Brianna, do you need something?"

Brianna poked her head in the dorm and saw Jimmy putting his few belongings away. Boyle and O'Brien were doing the same a little bit further and looked up.

"Not really... Do you need help? The captain told me to go down and find a quiet place to stay, but he obviously never tried to lie on his bunk in this weather..."

"Take my hammock!", Boyle immediately offered with a disarming smile. O'Brien shook his head as if he couldn't believe his ears.

"Actually, I was trying to make myself useful...", Brianna started, but Boyle put a hand on his heart.

"I insist. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself by losing your balance. I’d rather know you are here, safe and sound."

"Come on, you just want a woman to leave her delicate scent on your hammock!”, a sailor sneered from the back of the dormitory, causing a few laughs among the other men.

"My hammock will always smell better than yours, mate," Boyle retorted.

O'Brien grinned sarcastically. "As much as I hate to admit it, Mr. Boyle is right. You will be safer hanging above the ground than standing or lying anywhere on this ship."

Boyle immediately bowed, inviting her to follow him under the first man’s weary gaze. "Over here, Miss..."

The young woman somehow managed to settle into the hammock, raising the sides to wrap herself in it as in a cocoon.

"I do not recommend trying to get out if the ocean becomes too rough... The hammock follows the movement of the swell when you stay still, but if you wriggle... the fall can hurt", O’Brien explained, wincing.

"Got it."

One after the other, the sailors finished putting their things away and went back to work, leaving Brianna alone in the dormitory, pleasantly rocked by the waves. Despite the anxiety caused by the approaching storm, her wild night on Tortuga and the gently swaying hammock soon got the better of her and she fell asleep.

~o~

Her eyelids opened wide when a sound similar to an explosion woke her up with a start. Brianna felt a brief moment of panic overwhelm her, as she did not recognize where she was, before remembering why she was wrapped in a hammock. Not a single ray of light filtered through the rare openings in the hull, a sign that the storm had caught up with them. _Good Lord, that noise_... The _Gloriana_ was howling. Literally. The hull creaked continuously. The wind blew through the wooden boards, whistling horribly, and the waves crashed against the ship. Brianna felt like she was stuck in the washing machine Frank had installed in their Boston house a few years earlier. Her hammock was swinging now more violently than when she had fallen asleep and she felt slightly nauseous.

A powerful wave roared so loudly that the entire ship vibrated, before the water came down trickling in the corridors. A flow of fresh air invaded the dormitory and she knew without even seeing it that water had flowed under her feet. Brianna heard a high-pitched and terrified moan and it took her a few seconds to realize that it came from her own mouth. For the first time in a while, and perhaps even in her entire life, fear completely paralyzed her. When she had been abducted, she had tried to bite, to defend herself. When Bonnet had scared her to dissuade her from running away, she had adapted her behavior. When the monstrous man on Saba had tried to rape her, she had struck his head with her machete without even thinking, out of pure survival instinct. But here, facing the unleashed elements, she found herself completely unable to act or think reasonably. The ocean didn't give a damn about weapons, submission or rebellion. If it decided to eat you up alive, it did. Whether you were good or bad, rich or poor, a man of God or a pagan.

Another wave swept over the ship and water trickled down the corridors again. Brianna's lower lip began to shake uncontrollably. She only wanted one thing right now: snuggle against Stephen's chest until they came out of this living Hell. _Stephen_... A shiver of horror ran down her spine as she realized the kind of danger the captain and the crew might be in, up there on deck _. If they are still there_... _Maybe the storm swept them away, leaving me all alone on a ship adrift..._ She shook her head, driving this nightmarish idea out of her mind, and tried to get out of the hammock before remembering O'Brien's warning.

She hesitated for a moment, but she just couldn’t stay there, not knowing if she was the last survivor or if there was still hope. If she had to die, she’d rather face the Reaper than wait for her here, in the ship’s bowels. Carefully, she pulled one leg out of the hammock, while gripping the edges firmly with her hands, and was about to pull out the second leg when a jolt made her tilt on one side. Brianna fell hard to the floor, her head hitting the wood with a dull thud. As she expected, the ground was soaked, covered with a thin layer of cold seawater. She screamed and rolled onto her side before getting on all fours. A throbbing pain pulsed in her head and one of her elbows seemed to be scratched. But she wouldn't stop until she made sure that Stephen and the others were still alive. Feeling her way along, she took the direction of the exit and went out into the corridor, where the water kept trickling from the top of the main staircase.

Her right hand firmly clinging to the handrail, she walked out, fearing the worst. An irregular wave caught the boat askew and she was thrown against the opposite wall, her left shoulder hitting the wood hard. Her breathing quickened and she heard herself moan again, now walking along the left handrail. She was a few steps away from the deck when she caught sight of sailors desperately pulling on ropes. But the relief of not being alone was short lived. What she had in front of her eyes was a vision of apocalypse. The jet-black sky contrasted with the whiteness of the sails, so much so that no one could ignore the long dark tear across one of the two square sails. Sailors were running in all directions, others were pulling on ropes, while one of the topmen on the foremast seemed in a bad position. Perched on one of the yards, he tried to regain control of the sail when a wave unbalanced him. The unfortunate man crashed on the deck, thirty meters below, and stopped moving. Up above, other topmen had taken over, but Brianna could no longer take her eyes off the body which was now rolling slowly on the deck.

A voice suddenly pulled her from her trance: it sounded distant and muffled, but she recognized it at once. Bonnet was shouting orders from the upper deck, orders that were repeated by the other officers to the most distant sailors. Brianna closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm down. She couldn’t help but feeling stupid for imagining the worst case scenario and leaving the safety of Boyle's hammock. She would never be able to climb back on her own. But fate decided otherwise, and as she was cursing herself once again, two silhouettes appeared at the top of the stairs. One of the sailors, supported by another, was wincing in pain, pressing one of his arms against his stomach.

"Oh, Miss, you’re here!", said the unharmed sailor, helping his colleague down the stairs. "Can you take care of Ryan? I have to go back!"

Before Brianna had time to answer, he left the said Ryan in the corridor and ran off. The young woman glanced at his arm and saw that the shoulder formed an unusual angle. _Managing the flu was one thing, but this?,_ she thought, panicking again. Ryan seemed to understand her distress and shook his head. "This is not the first time, but I need help to put it back. A doctor explained to me how to do it in case it happens again."

Brianna nodded quickly. "I’ll do my best."

"I need to lie down...", the man groaned, dropping to the floor. A new wave rocked the galleon and made him fall to the ground, increasing the pain in his dislocated shoulder. He howled and Brianna rushed over to help him lie on his back. Then, he asked her to outstretch his arm in a right angle with the shoulder. She did so, trying to ignore Ryan's screams every time she moved his arm an inch.

"Sorry...", she mumbled, once the arm was correctly positioned. "What now?"

"Now, you pull."

"Huh??"

Ryan winced and looked at his outstretched hand next to him. "You take my wrist with both hands, and you pull on it. If you are not strong enough, you can wedge your feet against my hip."

Brianna turned as white as a ghost. "I don't know if I can... I'm not a doctor!"

"The boys helped me do it more times than I can count, you'll be fine..."

Taking the man's wrist between her shaking hands, she followed his instructions and sat on the floor to prop her feet up on the injured man's hip. "Are you ready?"

Ryan nodded and she tugged firmly on his arm, feeling the entire limb follow the movement before moving back in its recess. Brianna shivered with disgust and apprehension when Ryan yelled one last time, before immediately calming down. He gasped for a few seconds, still lying on the floor, then straightened up, holding his arm tight against him. "I must not move my arm... There’s a scarf in my stuff."

Brianna got to her feet and helped him do the same, before they made their way to the dormitories, where Ryan told her where to find his scarf. Once his arm was properly seated, Brianna tied the scarf around his neck and the man sat in a corner of the room.

"How is the situation up there? Have we... lost a lot of men?”, Brianna asked worriedly.

Despite the darkness, Brianna clearly saw Ryan frown. "It’s too early to tell, Miss. The only way is to take attendance at the end of the storm..." He noticed her panicked expression and added hastily: "But the captain is safe and sound. The Kraken itself could not sink the _Gloriana_ as long as Stephen Bonnet holds the helm."

"May you be right...", Brianna whispered as a new wave brought seawater towards them. "I’m not only worried about the captain, however. Everyone here matters."

"That’s a nice thing to say, Miss."

They exchanged a smile in the dim light when a husky howl came from the corridor, clearly audible despite the storm. Brianna jumped to her feet and left the dorm. The man who had fallen from the yard had dragged himself miserably with his arms up to the main staircase. "Oh Lord, he's alive...", whispered Brianna, rushing towards him. Behind her, Ryan had stood up and was following her, holding onto the handrail with his one good hand.

"I can't feel my legs...", the man whimpered, his mouth projecting a mixture of saliva and blood. Brianna stepped out onto the deck, immediately drenched in rain and ocean spray, and knelt beside him. The man's pelvis was shattered into pieces and she knew without having a doctor's degree that his spine was fractured. Everything below his waist had stopped moving and when she lifted his shirt, the large purple and black circles that appeared under his skin indicated internal bleeding. It was a miracle that he was still conscious after such a fall, but the prognosis was bad. He would likely be dead within a few minutes.

"The others... they say you can cure all ills...", sputtered the man. His hands had started to tremble. From the stairs, Ryan was watching his dying colleague darkly. When Brianna looked up at him, he shook his head slowly and turned his head away. The young woman felt her heart break and laid down on the floor next to the dying man, forcing a smile on her face and delicately placing her hand flat on his back.

"Does it hurt?”, she asked reassuringly.

The man tried to shake his head against the floor. "No... the pain is going away..."

Brianna smiled, relieved that the rain was hiding the tears that threatened to run down her cheeks. "It's a magic trick... To make you feel better... Just a few more minutes and you will be running around like a rabbit."

"I knew it... you’re not like... the other women..." The man grinned and she saw through the blood escaping his lips that the fall had broken part of his teeth. A new wave swept over the deck and Brianna protected her face with her arms for a few seconds, before turning her attention back to her patient. But his gaze had frozen and his hands had stopped shaking. She was about to get up when she heard a sinister creak above her head. The yard that held one of the four trapezoid sails above the square sails, had just broken and the loose part was falling at full speed. Brianna only had time to run straight ahead before it crashed onto the deck, causing a few wooden boards to burst into pieces. It was when she heard Bonnet’s furious voice that she realized she had run straight up to the upper deck staircase.

"By Danu, what are you doin’ here?”, the pirate barked as she looked up quickly towards him, her crazy hair blown away by the wind.

 _I’m so glad to hear his voice I don’t even care if he’s yelling at me_ …, Brianna thought for a moment as she climbed the last steps, still clinging with both hands to the banister. "Ryan is injured and I wanted to rescue the topman who fell, but... he did not survive!”, she yelled over the wind.

"I had specifically told you to-" Stephen didn’t finish his sentence. He was staring at something behind Brianna, his eyes wide with… terror. Never had she seen anything like it in the captain's eyes, not even when they had dived into the underground river. Before she could turn around to see what scared him so much, Bonnet grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her against him, pressing her body against the helm. Two seconds before a huge wave crushed them with all its weight.

Brianna felt thousands of gallons of water hit her shoulders hard and expel all the air from her lungs. Her face hit the wooden wheel and the metallic taste of blood invaded her mouth. But she held on. At least she thought so, until the weight of Bonnet's body against her back disappeared. The force he exerted on the wheel also disappeared with him and Brianna felt it spin uncontrollably to one side, taking one of her hands away with it.

The wave had swept Stephen away a few meters further, and he hit the opposite railing, swallowing a few gulps of salt water as it passed. A throbbing pain invaded his entire skull. The end was near. It would take only a few seconds for the wheel to stop spinning, the galleon would gybe and with the force of the wind, they would all fall into the abyss. For a second, Stephen Bonnet thought he was defeated. By the ocean, which was finally reclaiming its own. By fate, which was taking his life just when he enjoyed it the most. And he prepared to die.

A groan of pain and rage, however, made him open his eyes and he needed a few seconds to understand what was going on. His Brianna, her nose and chin covered with blood, clung desperately to the wheel’s handles. One in the crook of her elbow and another in her left hand. She pulled on the wheel, her knees on the ground and her eyes wide, as if she had no idea what she was doing. Which was probably the case.

Stephen got to his feet as quickly as he could, seizing the wheel just when Brianna let go with a cry of pain, her right hand pressed against her stomach. "I think I twisted my wrist...", she winced, as he trapped her in his arms to keep her from falling.

"Let’s get things straight... Even though I’m glad you disobeyed me for once, now you have to go back down!", Stephen yelled into her ear.

Brianna nodded quickly, enjoying the feeling of the pirate's chest against her back for a few seconds. "Why are you alone up here? Where's O’Brien?"

"He’s supervising the sailors taking care of the hull down there, with Mr. Murphy. Don't worry, it won't be long. The storm is heading west and we are heading north, we will be safe soon. Now get out of my sight, Fraser."

Brianna reluctantly pulled away from him, then stooped to pass under his arm. Her right hand was still moving well, but it was getting blue. Her wrist was probably sprained, but it was not much compared to what had almost happened to them a few minutes earlier. She was planning to return to the dormitories, to sit and stay put until the end of the storm, when the _Gloriana_ 's bow suddenly rose and threw her down the corridor. One second later, Brianna’s head violently hit the wood, immediately plunging her into unconsciousness.

~o~

When Brianna opened her eyelids, she felt terribly nauseated and instinctively turned to her side, coughing. She also felt the unpleasantly cold and damp floor under her body, a throbbing pain in her skull, her right hand and her nose, and her wet clothes sticking to her body. Rolling gently on her stomach, she winced when the movement resulted in an unpleasant dizziness and forced her to close her eyes briefly. _Ugh_... She had been awaking like this much too frequently for her own good lately. Hangovers, concussions… She would soon end up with the brain of a professional boxer. _An alcoholic boxer..._

Putting her left hand on the wall, she noticed that the ship had stopped vibrating and shaking like a furious horse, which indicated they had returned to calmer waters. _Thank, God_... Progressively regaining consciousness, she went up the corridor towards the deck, wondering how much time she had spent there, on the floor. Outside, the night had fallen and the soft glow of the stars in the cloudless sky was the most reassuring thing she had ever seen in her life. Despite the calmer weather, the sailors were still at work, clearing debris from the deck, repairing damages, yelling at each other. One of the trapezoidal sails, whose yard had been broken, was missing and the torn square sail had been lowered. The body of the sailor she had comforted until his death was nowhere to be found: maybe the storm had swept him away or maybe he had been taken somewhere else, waiting to be honored and thrown into the ocean wrapped in his hammock.

Brianna climbed the steps of the upper deck at full speed, but O’Brien was behind the wheel, looking as exhausted as if he hadn't slept in ten days. A flash of disappointment must have passed in her eyes, because a smile crept across the first man’s face and he shrugged. "Sorry, it's just me," he sighed.

But Brianna refused to let him think that his life meant less to her than Stephen's, and she ran to hug his back in a friendly manner. "Nice to see you too, Mr. O’Brien," she whispered to the young man, before pulling away and setting off again in search of known faces.

As she wandered, she met Jimmy and Boyle, who had spent the storm in the holds, watching the condition of the hull, and hugged them both passionately, much to Boyle’s delight. In the pantry, Flanagan had lit a few candles and was grumbling, picking up all his utensils that had fallen to the floor, with the help of two other sailors. Down in the holds, Brianna had water almost up to her knees and she was about to panic when old Murphy reassured her, telling her that the situation was under control. She then decided to leave the carpenter and the sailors alone and went back to the surface.

She was about to lose hope for finding Bonnet when Ryan, his arm still in his scarf, passed by her in a corridor and raised his eyebrows. "That’s quite a lump you got there on your head, Miss... Are you all right? The captain is at the front, if he’s the one you are looking for!"

Brianna's features relaxed and she sighed in relief. "How's your shoulder?"

Ryan winced. "I'm seriously considering retirement... I'm getting too old for this nonsense."

"Retiring after a treasure hunt, what a fantastic way to end your career!”, Brianna laughed as she walked away.

"I couldn’t agree more, Miss Fraser!"

Holding her soaked skirt in her left hand, Brianna went up the stairs to the steerage, then to the front of the ship, not far from the place where she had spent her first days, trying to stay as far away from Stephen as possible. It was only two months ago and yet it seemed to have happened in another life.

That was when she saw him. His tricorn hat sitting proudly on his blond head, he was looking at the foremast that one of the sailors was pointing with his finger. Not wanting to disturb the men in their work, Brianna stood back for a moment, even if she desperately wanted to throw her arms around the Irishman's neck. But the simple fact of knowing that he was alive and well was enough to fill her with happiness.  
At least until he finally looked away from the mast... and saw her. Even at that distance, the sparkle in his eyes was so intense that Brianna decided that _no, it was not enough_. Closing the distance between them, she jumped on him, while Bonnet wrapped his arms around her waist like ivy around a tree.

The embarrassed sailor took a step back, not knowing what would earn him the biggest reprimand: stay and be the indiscreet witness of the fiery kiss between his captain and the girl, or leave without being dismissed. Fortunately, Bonnet waved his hand at him, his mouth still stuck to Brianna’s, to tell him he was allowed to leave and the sailor ran off immediately.

"I was scared... I was so scared," Brianna breathed as she studded Bonnet's lips with kisses.

The pirate smirked. "It was just a little bit of water..."

"Come off it... I saw it in your eyes... Just before the wave swept you away. You were terrified."

His smile fell and he raised a hand to push Brianna's wet curls behind her ear. She didn't look great with her swollen red nose and the huge lump on her forehead, but ironically, she had never been as attractive as she was then. Something had changed in the way she looked at him. He had gotten used to inducing fear, then annoyance, desire and a lot of other feelings in her blue eyes. But this one was new and although he was not used to it, he immediately knew what it was.

A flash of sadness passed in his green irises and he understood as she frowned that she had noticed it. But he couldn’t let her ask about it. Not now, not yet. Or he wouldn’t have the strength to do what he had to do. Especially now that he had seen love in her eyes. _May I be damned_ …

Closing his eyes so that she would no longer see his trouble, he captured her lips and carried her away in the sweetest of kisses.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**There can't be a pirate story without a good ol' storm, can it? I really hope you felt every creak, every move of the _Gloriana_ during this adventure, and that it gave you a few chills! As for Bonnet, he just made a radical decision but you won't know which one until next Monday! Until then, I look forward to reading your comments on this chapter and I wish you a wonderful week!**

**Xérès**


	17. Siúil a Rún

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**I hope you've all recovered from last week’s storm, because it's another kind of drama that awaits you today!**

**Feel free to leave a little comment after you read, this is the only way you can thank me for hours and hours of work every week! Love you and enjoy this new chapter!**

**Thank you all of you who read, commented and kudozed the previous chapter!**

**oOo**

  1. _Siúil a Rún_ (Go, my love)



Brianna and Stephen had barely exchanged more than a few words in the days following the storm. The young woman had realized that something had changed since they had come within a hair’s breadth of death. The way she looked at Stephen, how fast her heart pounded when he was by her side, the chills he gave her with every slightest touch. Everything was much more intense, more extreme. She had felt it the moment she had found him on deck, under the starry sky. And she knew he had felt this change in her as well.

Since then, she had not said a word, scared that her eyes would no longer be the only messengers of her torment. However, this silence seemed to suit Bonnet, who was himself less talkative than usual. The opportunities to be alone together were also rare: damages, water ingresses, wet supplies, had monopolized the captain even more than usual and the brief moments they spent together were limited to a few kisses in the warmth of their sheets, before he closed his eyes for two or three hours only. And as he always made a point of leaving the cabin without waking Brianna up, she wasn’t even surprised when she opened her eyes one morning and found herself alone in their bunk.

This time was different, however. The galleon did not move. Brianna frowned and straightened up on the mattress. They weren't supposed to arrive in Philadelphia before four or five days, so why did it feel like they were ashore? Wearing only her blouse, she rushed to the balcony and shivered when the fresh breeze from the North Atlantic coast swept under the fabric, caressing her bare skin. Before her eyes was a city she knew only too well, as she had stayed there for a few days almost two and a half months earlier. _Wilmington…?_ There was no doubt. She recognized the docks on which she had arrived from Scotland, the rows of wooden houses, the muddy ground trampled by countless horses and passers-by. Her heart beating fast, she went back inside to put at least a petticoat on. After all, the sailors had gotten used to seeing her wander around the ship in the most indecent outfits for a woman of this time, and no one had made any comment – especially since they had found the treasure.

She ran up the stairs, her eyes scanning the surroundings looking for Bonnet. She found him leaning on the rail, watching the people of Wilmington on the docks. "I thought we were supposed to go to Philadelphia", Brianna said, a little sharper than intended. She had a bad feeling in her gut. Stephen Bonnet never changed his plans without a good reason.

She saw him purse his lips without turning around and the knot in her stomach tightened a little more. "You are not coming with us."

"What?” Her voice was barely more than a squeak and she felt her whole body start to shiver uncontrollably in apprehension. A few weeks earlier, she would have been thrilled to hear this and would have rushed onto the dock. But now, all she felt was an excruciating sense of betrayal.

"You're staying here, Brianna.” Bonnet turned to face her and she stiffened. His face was completely neutral, as if he was telling a common passenger that she had reached her destination. "That is what you wanted, isn’t it?"

Brianna opened her mouth, but her lower lip was trembling so much that she couldn't make a single complete sentence. "Y-yes, but I..."

"Perfect, then. You can go get your belongings."

Brianna couldn't believe a word he was saying. The casualness with which he ordered her to leave was incredibly violent; a pair of slaps would have had almost the same effect. "Why are you doing this? It’s a trap, isn’t it? You are testing me to know if I still want to run away?” She was starting to panic and clasped her hands together to keep them from trembling.

Bonnet's mouth formed an upside down U and he shook his head, shrugging. "Absolutely not."

Brianna looked at him in disbelief. She didn’t understand anything and watched the scene as a spectator, outside her own body, just as you watch a traffic accident from the opposite lane. After a few seconds, she sneered and waved her index finger in front of her face. "You know what? I'm going down to our room and I’ll wait there until we get to Philadelphia. We’ll give MacNamara his damn part of the treasure and then, _only then_ , we will come back here, as planned."

She was turning away when the Irishman's annoyed voice rose again. "If I command you to leave my ship, you leave my ship, darlin’. Without discussion."

Brianna stiffened at the word ‘darlin’’, which he hadn’t used for a long time. Something was definitely wrong. He was pushing her away and she had no idea why. "You can't force me.” And without waiting for his answer, she went back inside the ship. It didn't take Bonnet long to catch up with her, however, and she couldn’t reach the cabin door before he forced her to stop and pushed her against the wall.  
“Last time I checked, I was still the captain of this ship. Be grateful I leave you ashore, I could have thrown you overboard on the way to Philadelphia..."

"What the hell is going on with you?", Brianna barked, her eyes wide with anger. She was about to burst into tears but she couldn’t cry in front of him without knowing what had gotten into him. "You’ve been repeating for weeks that you would never let me go, that I was your property and all that _bullshit_ … And now you kick me out for no reason?"

"What about you, Brianna? You move heaven and earth to escape every time you’ve got the chance, and now that I set you free you won’t leave?"

Brianna blinked, outraged. "We had a plan! Philadelphia and _then_ Wilmington! Together! But one fine morning, Mister Bonnet decides that he is letting me go, taking _my_ treasure away? I’m sure you will understand I am a teensy bit surprised?"

"What can I say, darlin’? The honeymoon is over, I got everything I wanted from you... You just don't interest me anym-"

Brianna's hand rose and slapped his cheek, as violently as a whiplash. The pirate's head swiveled ninety degrees to his right and he gritted his teeth, struggling to stay calm and perfectly still. It was his biggest mistake.

"I knew it...", Brianna breathed, narrowing her eyes. "The old Bonnet would have slapped me back or threatened me with his knife. But you’re not doing anything to me. You didn’t lose your interest in me. You’re keeping me away from you… Why?"

The pirate's green gaze turned to her, both admiring and annoyed that she had so easily read his mind. "You’re deluding yourself, sweetheart. I never promised you anything. I only did what I had to do to get between your thighs."

"I do not believe you."

He chuckled and shook his head, still avoiding her eyes. "Well, don't believe me. It doesn't change anything."

A defiant glimmer lit the redhead's eyes and she slipped her thumbs between her waist and the top of her petticoat to pull it down. The garment fell on the floor with a soft noise, revealing the young woman's bare legs. The pirate's eyes darkened. "I told you I’m not interested in you anymore..."

"I heard that.” She took off her blouse, now exposing her breasts in the middle of the deserted corridor. The wounds on her back had almost healed and she was no longer wearing bandages. She would have been completely naked if she wasn’t wearing some baggy makeshift knickers that still hid most of her private parts. "Then you won’t be bothered if I say my goodbyes to a few friends from the crew. They will always be more memorable than yours."

Bonnet tried hard to look relaxed, but Brianna knew he was seething with anger. A long silence fell between them, during which they just glared at each other. Neither of them wanted to lose this battle. "Please, have fun...", he drawled, knowing that she wouldn't do anything.

Brianna slowly moved away from the corridor wall and started to walk backwards towards the stairs, never taking her eyes off Bonnet’s. One step. Two… She had to admit he was incredibly obstinate: his nonchalant grin did not waver in the least. Brianna was about to wonder if she had been mistaken about his feelings towards her, when Boyle's voice rose in the corridor.

"Ah, Captain, there you are, I-" 

Slowly, Brianna turned towards the sailor, deliberately bringing her hands to her naked breasts just as well to hide them as to draw attention to them, and smiled mischievously. Boyle’s eyes seemed to pop out of their sockets, but it was absolutely impossible to tell at that distance if it was because of the young woman’s indecent attire or because of the captain’s murderous expression. Before Brianna had the chance to find out, Bonnet’s arms had lifted her up and thrown her over his shoulder to carry her to the cabin, before he kicked the door shut. Boyle remained motionless for a few seconds in the corridor, blinked several times, then slowly went back to the deck, totally forgetting the reason why he was looking for his captain.

Inside the cabin, Bonnet put her back on the floor and glared at her. He was furious. "What are you trying to prove, Brianna?"

"That you always care about me," she replied calmly, as she knew now that she was not mistaken. "This being the case, I want you to tell me the truth: why are we here?” She saw him open his mouth with an angry expression and pressed herself against him, grabbing his face between her hands, the tips of her fingers caressing the scar on the pirate's cheek. "And don't pretend you simply lost interest, because I won't believe a single word."

Bonnet closed his mouth again, trying to ignore the young woman’s naked body against his. He looked away at the doors leading to the balcony. Through the glass, he could see the docks of Wilmington, under a sky that was as heavy and sad as Brianna’s irises at that moment. Gently, he put his own hands on hers, forcing her to let go of his face. "You can't set foot in Philadelphia anymore."

Brianna frowned. "Why is that?"

The Irishman walked a few steps toward the balcony, frowning and clenching his teeth. After all, he could tell her the whole truth now. If she hated him, she would leave. And if she left, she would be safe. "MacNamara's men... they weren't there just to make sure we wouldn’t disappear with the treasure." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her cross her arms over her chest, wrinkling her nose. "You were also part of the delivery."

"What?"

He turned his head briefly to her and saw her accusing look. "If we found Bellamy’s loot, MacNamara wanted me to leave you to him so that you could give him all the information you have on other lost treasures. And I accepted", he explained in a neutral voice. "Back then, I thought that by the time we made it back to Philadelphia, I would have obtained everything I wanted from you and grown tired of you..."

"That's what you and Mulligan were talking about the day you killed him," she spat with a hint of animosity.

“He sensed that I would not uphold my half of the bargain… and he reminded me that I had no choice."

Brianna sighed deeply and turned away to wrap herself in one of the blankets. "Maybe if we explain the situa-"

The pirate laughed sarcastically and shook his head. "Be honest, sweetheart. Does Charles MacNamara look like a man who listens to explanations?"

She tightened the blanket around her and lowered her nose. No. The receiver was definitely not a listening ear. He was the kind of man people listen to and obey. "What if we bring him other treasures? We're a good team, it would be stupid to separate us..."

“He doesn't trust me. He knows I am changeable and that I can disappear all of a sudden if I want to. He just wants to make sure you don't disappear with me."

Brianna walked over to him, reaching out to put one hand on the pirate's arm. “His two minions are dead. We don’t have to go back."

"And spend the rest of our lives running away from the red coats _and_ the entire Irish mob?”, he sneered bitterly. “We wouldn't last the year."

"You won’t live much longer if you go back to Pennsylvania on your own…", Brianna whispered softly. "And your head isn't the only one on the chopping block, MacNamara is a threat to your entire crew as well."

"I'll just tell him you're dead. A nasty wound that got infected, the flu, those ugly monsters on this hellish island, I'll find something..."

"He will have you watched..."

The pirate nodded. "For a few months, perhaps. I’ll just have to keep a low profile, pick up my smuggling activities where I left off...", he said so casually that Brianna’s heart tightened a little bit more.

"A few months...", she repeated in a low voice.

Stephen looked down at her and smirked, slipping a finger under the young woman's chin to force her to look up. "You will have forgotten me by then, sweetheart. You will be with your family, safe and sound... The old Cameron will certainly introduce you to a few rich and handsome bachelors. And I will be smuggling again. The order of things will be restored”, he concluded with a laugh, unintentionally repeating Mulligan’s words. "You might be more fearless than any woman I've ever met... but this isn’t a life for you."

"Who are you to decide what I want to do with my life?", she hissed, releasing her chin from his fingers.

"Still your owner... At least until this ship leaves the dock tomorrow morning. Without you."

Brianna quickly rubbed her stinging nose. She couldn't believe Bonnet was actually letting her go. Most importantly, she couldn't believe how painful that was to her. They had only spent two months together, one of which playing cat and mouse, and yet that brief period of time had been so intense it felt like a lifetime. All of a sudden, Stephen Bonnet had become her whole life: the second he had bought her in Kingston, he had become the center of her universe, both in a bad and a good way. Alternately terrifying, bewitching, intriguing, he had monopolized all of her attention and energy. She had modelled her lifestyle on his, faced his wrath, his changing moods, but also savored his touch and insatiable desire. She ate when he allowed her to eat (most of the time), she slept when he let her sleep, she lived under his constant, ever-present surveillance. Now that she thought about it, it was almost unhealthy, even though she had grown used to it over the days. So much so that the idea of being deprived of him, as brutally as he had entered her life, shattered Brianna’s heart into a million pieces. She needed him as much as she needed oxygen but she realized her social and psychological dependence towards the pirate would certainly have to be overcome if she wanted to think more clearly.

"What if I don't forget you?"

"I guess I'll be back around here every once in a while, but... I shall not recommend you to wait for me on the docks. Nights are getting cold."

Brianna gave him a sad smile. The arguments in favor of their separation were piling up and the prospect of being reunited with her parents was a relief. The shock of Stephen’s announcement had passed and she realized that she had reacted badly, mainly because he had presented with a _fait accompli_. Pretending that she didn't matter to him. When in fact, it was precisely because _she mattered_ that he was keeping her away from him and his questionable way of life.

“Tomorrow morning, right?”, she breathed. "That still leaves us a little time..."

Spreading her fingers, she let the blanket slide to the floor and saw his green eyes follow the movement of the fabric, before lingering back up her body. Brianna felt a painful lump in her throat, thinking that maybe he was looking at her like this for the last time. She immediately dismissed that idea. If their fates were bound, as Claire’s and Jamie’s had been, then their paths would cross again. And if they weren't, then they would still have lived a beautiful and crazy adventure. But at that moment, nothing – neither hunger, nor exhaustion and especially not any dark thought – would prevent her from spending a few more hours with her captain.

Less than a minute later, the pirate had also taken his clothes off and was dragging her to their bunk, making her sit on his thighs and wrap her legs around his waist. Brianna looked down at him, as he studded the soft skin of her breasts with languid kisses. Closing her eyelids, she ran her fingers through the Irishman's hair, pressing him a little more against her chest. She wished she could merge with him, carry him all into her own heart. Far from the sea, far from MacNamara and the countless dangers waiting for him out there...

Stephen slipped one of his hands between them and she wiggled slightly to let him position himself between her legs. Then, she slid gently down and he entered her with a slight growl of satisfaction, his arms tightening around her waist. Pulling her closer, harder. Brianna gasped as he hit a sensitive spot deep in her anatomy, but he didn't let go of her. Even when her hips began to sway, he followed every gesture, mimed every movement, so that she could never move too far away from him.

When he looked up after several minutes and their eyes met again, the sparkle Stephen had seen after the storm was back in Brianna’s eyes. He had instinctively understood the three words behind it, but there was no way she could say them. These words were only the result of two months of forced isolation with him, her mind wasn’t clear, and even if he was determined to enjoy her presence until the next morning, he did not want her to say things he didn't deserve to hear. Not after everything he had done to her. Not after buying her, threatening her, selling her to one of his clients and so much more.

Brianna’s lips parted and he knew she was going to say _it_. Without delay, he grabbed Brianna's nape and kissed her passionately. If her mouth was busy with something else, she wouldn't speak.

He then abruptly swung her onto her back and she looked surprised for a moment. Ignoring her bewildered expression, he entered her again, even harder than before and was glad to see that he had succeeded. Pure lust had replaced that spark of undeserved love in her eyes. And he would make sure it stayed that way until she left.

~o~

Brianna was stroking Stephen's skin with her fingertips, her cheek pressed against his chest and her gaze lost in the distance. The last hours had been so sweet that it only made her departure more painful, and when he finally spoke, after more than an hour of stillness and silence, simply enjoying the other’s presence, she felt her heart sink.

"It will soon be daylight...", he breathed against her red hair.

She looked up accusingly at the French windows and the sky that was slowly lighting up beyond them, as if it was responsible for her misfortune. With a little imagination, she could have seen herself at her high school drama club, where they had performed Romeo and Juliet. When Romeo had to flee his beloved Juliet's bedroom at dawn.

"Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I; It is some meteor that the sun exhales to be to me this night a torch-bearer, and light me on my way to Wilmington”, she recited theatrically, adapting Juliet's tirade to their own situation. Stephen frowned and Brianna sighed, thinking he hadn't understood the reference. “Shakespeare? Romeo and Juliet?"

"Are you comparing us to two silly kids who end up killing themselves?", he growled, as she straightened up, both amused and scandalized.

"They were madly in love with each other!"

"And look where it got them..."

Brianna shook her head with a mocking smile. "Love was not their downfall! Their families’ overweening pride and intolerance, however..."

 _Right, because your wealthy family will certainly welcome an outlaw like me with open arms...,_ he quipped internally as she laid back comfortably on his chest.

"What if I can't find my parents? Have you thought about it?", she asked pouting. "I will be left to my own devices in an unknown city… I could even be abducted and sold again!"

Stephen nodded thoughtfully, eyeing her naked body against his. "Um… You'll definitely be worth a lot less money now."

Brianna sat up with a smirk, craning her neck to kiss him. "Charming... You definitely know how to talk to women..."

He greeted her lips with a small laugh, as she kissed him slowly, delightfully. As if to savor what would probably be their last moments together. After a few seconds, Brianna backed off a few inches, for the simple pleasure of once again diving into the pirate's green irises. But the sun reminded them of its existence, rising shyly over the ocean and casting a ray of light on the young woman's face, making her squint. She felt Bonnet straighten up under her and she sat down on the bunk, admitting defeat.

"I'll help you pack your things..."

Brianna nodded slowly, looking down to the floor. She almost resented herself for being so upset to leave him, when her new-found freedom would finally allow her to reunite with her mother and save her life. And Jamie’s. She was going to meet her biological father… _Then why does all of this leave such a bitter taste?_

Slowly, she rose from the bunk as Stephen rummaged through a chest, looking for a bag to pack her few possessions. The long leather coat, the waist cincher, the boots, a few simple blouses and skirts, Bellamy’s gemstones she had stored in a few purses.

"I think yesterday’s clothes are still in the corridor…", she whispered, smiling embarrassedly.

He chuckled softly and pulled her Philadelphia dress out of the chest. "Wear this one today… It reminds me of that day in Truro."

She took the embroidered green fabric between her fingers and nodded. A few minutes later, Stephen was helping her lace the corset and the dress up behind her back, with slow and gentle movements, before tying the black velvet ribbon and emerald clover around her neck. She ran her fingers over the stone, happy to have other gems at her disposal now, as she wouldn’t let this one go for anything in the world. Stephen's hand came out from behind her, holding the gold and emerald butterfly she had found on her first night on the ship. "Keep it... It sure looks better on you than it would on me."

Trying not to shake, she took the jewel between her fingers and tied her hair around the golden rod, securing the end against her scalp. Behind her, Stephen continued to fuss around and fill the bag. Had she accumulated so much stuff in just two months? But Brianna refused to turn around to find out. The very thought of seeing him put away every memory of her in that damn bag literally broke her heart.

She jumped when he put a woolen shawl over her shoulders, to protect her from the cold. Silence had fallen in the cabin as he had finished packing up. The lump in Brianna's throat was more painful than ever and a tear rolled down her left cheek. She quickly wiped it off with one hand, before he made her turn towards him.

"There must be another way...", Brianna whined, slowly losing her head. "If my aunt is as rich as you say she is, maybe she knows people? People who could get rid of MacNamara, of the red coats and…”

"I would have loved to meet you in another life, Fraser… But in this one, you deserve better than this."

He had said 'better than this' instead of 'better than me', but Brianna had read between the lines. A few months earlier, she would have winced at the thought of being around a pirate, who killed his enemies without batting an eyelid, acquired women as one buys two pounds of tomatoes, and roamed the seas in search of ships to plunder. But today everything had changed. Today she wouldn't have wanted another man for anything in the world. She had plundered and killed too. Without a shadow of regret, to save her own life, and strangely enough that had never kept her awake at night. Of course, her victim was an abomination, who would have raped her and chained her in a cave, but he was nonetheless dead. The old Brianna, the reckless young woman who had been abducted in a dark alleyway, certainly wouldn't have had the strength to use that machete. Stephen had changed that. Was it right or wrong, she had no idea and that was not the question. The question was, if she could do such a thing to survive, why wouldn’t she be able to face other dangers by his side? Why was he pushing her away like this when she knew she was braver and safer with him than with anyone else? How could he say that she deserved better than him, when it was precisely thanks to him that she had survived this crazy adventure? She opened her mouth to explain it all, but he narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue impatiently.

"Brianna…", he growled and she pursed her lips again, realizing that there was no point arguing with him. She grabbed her bag and lifted it, as he opened the cabin door. On the floor, her skirt and blouse from the day before were still there. He picked them up with a smile and instead of returning them to her, he threw them on the table.

On deck, the crew was busy preparing for the imminent departure and when Bonnet appeared, O’Brien solemnly told him that they were ready to set sail. The captain nodded briefly as Brianna appeared behind him, in her fancy dress, holding her bag. A flash of compassion passed in the first mate’s eyes and Brianna instantly got it. _Of course he knew, Stephen must have told him why we weren't going straight to Philadelphia._ She felt slightly betrayed but she couldn't blame O’Brien. He was following orders.

"What is happening?"

A little further, Jimmy was approaching, peering at Brianna's leather bag with a near-panicked expression. _He_ didn't seem to know, on the other hand.

"Miss Fraser must go back to her family", Bonnet replied in a neutral tone and Brianna almost regretted his sarcastic "darlin’". “She has wasted enough time with us already."

Jimmy was not taking this well. Brianna had been a sister to him, a maternal figure who had eased his guilt of having destroyed his own family and failed as a big brother. She had looked after him, comforted him, had sung for him. And above all, she had briefly brought happiness to one of the men he admired most in the world, as flawed as he may be. She couldn't leave like that without any warning. One thing was for sure, she wasn't leaving voluntarily. Turning his rebellious teenage gaze towards his captain, he wrinkled his nose. "Why are you doing this?"

The captain seemed taken aback for a moment, as he wasn’t used to see his cabin boy discussing his orders so bluntly, and Brianna felt the urge to defuse the situation. "We decided this at the last minute…" Jimmy turned to her in disbelief. "I had no idea we would stop here on the way back, but when I recognized the place, I… I really have to find my parents," she finished, unable to keep on lying to the young boy. _At least the last part is true._

The teenager looked down, perhaps realizing that his reaction was purely selfish. Brianna had had a life before the _Gloriana_ and she needed that life back. He just wished it hadn’t happened so soon. Running to her arms with all the candor of youth, he hugged the young woman who felt tears filling up her eyes again.

"You are a good person, Jimmy...", she whispered against his ear. "Don’t you ever doubt it."

The boy hugged her a little tighter for a few more seconds, and stepped back again with a sad smile. “We often stop in Wilmington, we will certainly see each other again."

"James…", Bonnet growled dryly. The last thing he needed was to see her walk away with some silly hope to hold onto. Releasing Brianna was probably one of the hardest decisions he had ever made in his life, and until now he had managed to stand back and distance himself. But if he ever saw a hint of hope – or worse, a promise – in her eyes, he might never let her set foot on the dock.

"Well…", Brianna blurted out with a forced smile. “I won't delay you any longer.” Her voice sounded so wrong that she wondered how anyone could take it seriously. But none of the men let anything show. "Please say goodbye for me to everyone I couldn’t see..."

"We will", O’Brien answered on behalf of his captain, who remained completely silent. Brianna thanked him with a smile and walked over to the dock. She went down the gangway and turned to the sailors one last time. Bad idea. Jimmy's and, _oh Lord_ , Bonnet's expressions made her want to die on the spot. When he saw her looking at him, Stephen instantly put on an encouraging face, but the damage was done. For a second, she had sensed his pain and had to force herself not to go back aboard and glue herself to him.

Gathering her courage, she chose to think of all that awaited her on the continent: her family, her father, her mother, and then later when she would be ready to leave them, the twentieth century with her head filled with crazy memories. Walking up the docks, she spotted Murphy’s bald head and beard. The carpenter was supervising a delivery of lumber and tools. He turned around when he saw her with her bag and her pretty dress, and seemed surprised for a moment before realizing what was going on. He left his supplier with a pat on the shoulder and walked over to her, the corners of his mouth stretching slightly under his beard.

"So he made up his mind, then?", he asked.

"A very one-sided decision, if you ask me…" Brianna let out a nervous laugh, trying not to burst into tears, then breathed in quickly. “Please keep taking good care of him, Mr. Murphy."

Murphy chuckled, which was very unusual of him and his old eyes shone for a moment. "Usually, it's up to the captain to take care of his men, Miss."

Brianna nodded. "But we both know that in your case, that's not quite true..."

Murphy chuckled again and Brianna wished she could stay a little longer to witness this heart-warming reaction more often. "Take care of yourself, Miss Fraser", he said, holding out his callused hand for her to shake it.

She did and took a step back, making her way towards the city. The day was still young and there was hardly anyone around except a few fishermen. She decided to head to the Willow Tree Tavern, where she had stayed two and a half months earlier. Hopefully the innkeeper had kept her stuff. Either way, she couldn't stay there on the dock watching the _Gloriana_ go, it was beyond her strength. After a few minutes’ walk, she recognized the wooden facade of the tavern and pushed the door open. The owner was busy behind his counter, while an old woman (maybe his wife?) cleaned the room, putting tables and chairs back in place for morning customers.

Brianna put her bag on the floor and the innkeeper stared at her, frowning, as if trying to remember where he had seen her face before. "Good morning... I stayed here for a few days about two months ago... But then I... Well, something happened and I had to leave without my belongings..."

The woman approached with a smile, leaning on her broomstick. "What was it, love? Lots of people leave things behind here, but when I think it's something they might miss, I keep it."

Brianna made a brief mental recap of the few things she had brought with her. “Clothes… There were also drawings, paper and charcoals. But that was it, I'm afraid."

To her surprise, the couple's faces immediately lit up. "Oh, you are the artist! I did keep all your things", the woman cried with a hint of admiration that made Brianna's cheeks flush. "I was so worried, a young girl travelling alone and disappearing all of a sudden..."

"I’m so sorry… How much do I owe you for the room?"

The woman turned to her husband, who reached under the counter and pulled out a register. "Oh, it seems to me that you had already paid, or that stingy old rat would have moved heaven and earth to find you…", she groaned, glaring at her husband.

"You had paid four nights in advance, Miss, and you disappeared after two," replied the innkeeper. “I'm afraid I can’t pay you back for the two other nights, though."

Brianna thought about the purse full of gems in her bag and was glad not to reward that boar with one of them. "Don't worry, you were kind enough to keep my belongings."

"Come with me", the woman offered, motioning for Brianna to follow her. "This way, please."

Brianna followed suit and the woman propped her broom against a wall before opening a door. There were dozens and dozens of unclaimed items, some wrapped in burlap bags, others loose on the rickety shelves. "So… um… I must have put that over there… ah! no… here?…” The woman searched for a few minutes in her mess before letting out a triumphant cry. “Ah! I knew it!” Brianna immediately recognized her small satchel and a few sheets of paper, hastily folded into her old traveling cloak. “Here you are!”, the lady said, smiling. “If I may, you have a great talent!"

Brianna thanked her and was about to put her things back in Stephen's bag, when a few drawings slipped from her fingers and scattered on the floor. The woman eagerly picked them up, her eyes shining in admiration at the sights of Wilmington and the ship that had brought her from Scotland. "Do you want to keep one?", she offered with a smile.

The woman’s face lit up, as if she had been waiting for this for months. "Can I? Oh… let's see, what's my favorite? They're all so beautiful…" She hesitated for a moment between a portrait of a fisherman mending a net and a view of the docks at sunset, before finally choosing the fisherman. "Thank you so much, Miss."

Brianna just smiled and stepped out of the storage room to open her bag and stuff her things inside. Her hands froze, however, when she saw what Stephen had put on top of her clothes. Her other drawings, aka "the _Gloriana’s_ Portrait Gallery", were delicately laid out flat and she put a hand to her stomach, as if she had just been stabbed with a sharp dagger. Flipping through the pages, she realized that all the most intimate drawings were missing, the ones representing Stephen and especially his angelic expression as he slept. Almost all the sailors she knew were still there except the most important one. _No_ …

Her heart pounding, she put everything into her bag, closed it and stammered out a few excuses before leaving the tavern. Running as fast as she could despite the bag hitting her thigh with each stride, she darted down the alleys to find her way back to the harbor. The journey seemed endless to her and at one point she wondered if she had lost her way. She finally regained hope when she saw the sun shining on the ocean. She ran to the docks, looking for the _Gloriana_ , but it wasn’t moored anymore. She stopped at the edge of the dock, bending over with a stitching pain in her side and dropped her bag to the ground. A whimper escaped the young woman's lips and she clapped both hands to her face to keep from screaming.

A hundred yards East, the stern of the ship was moving away, and judging by the excruciating pain in her chest, it was taking half of her heart with it.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Aaaaand this will be all for today, folks! I hope you’re not too sad, but I have to admit this chapter was one of the most heartbreaking for me to write (yes, I said one of, which means there will be others… lol) but don’t worry, this story is far from finished so our heroes will definitely meet again (maybe even sooner than you think). But I felt Brianna needed to be alone for a while, to be able to sort her feelings out, you know?**

**I can’t wait to read your comments on this chapter! And until next Monday, I wish you a wonderful week!**

**Xérès**


	18. Óró Sé do Bheatha Bhaile

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Heartbroken, Brianna is now left to her own devices in Wilmington, while Stephen is on his way to Philadelphia… Our two heroes will have to get used to each other’s absence and it might be more difficult than expected !**

**Feel free to leave a little comment after you read, this is the only way you can thank me for hours and hours of work every week! Love you and enjoy this new chapter!**

**Thank you all of you who read, commented and kudozed previous chapter!**

**oOo**

  1. _Óró Sé do Bheatha Bhaile_ (Oh, welcome home)



The sun had finally risen for good and around Brianna, Wilmington’s harbor was progressively awakening from its morning torpor. And soon, she was the only poor soul standing still in the middle of an actual anthill. Merchants, fishermen, soldiers, citizens thronged all around her to load, unload, buy and sell various goods. Sitting on a mooring post, her bag tucked between her feet, she didn’t even seem to notice all the hustle and bustle. She had watched the _Gloriana_ move North for a very long time, letting her tears run down her cheeks and onto her dress, without even bothering to dry them or hide from curious passers-by. And then, the galleon had vanished into the curvature of the Earth, leaving her desperately alone. Judging by the position of the sun, it was around ten or eleven in the morning when she finally left her post to seek information.

She now had a destination, River Run, where she was sure to find family members, but the thought of being among strangers, and moreover in a plantation full of slaves, did not delight her. But she had no other option. One of the largest buildings beyond the harbor was a post office of the Royal Postal Service, the British Post which would be replaced by the United States Post at the end of the century, under the aegis of future President George Washington. Maybe they could tell her how to get to River Run, or even follow a postal convoy to the plantation, for a gem or two? She was heading towards the building, the strap of her bag painfully cutting into her shoulder, when a woman's voice, tinged with a strong Scottish accent, rose in the hubbub of the street.

“Fergus Claudel Fraser! Would ye please slow down? Or at least roll me around like a barrel, I would certainly go faster than I am now..."

Brianna blinked and looked up at the young woman who had just yelled at what probably was her husband. Her blonde hair was tied in a bun and topped with a white cap, and she seemed to have trouble walking with her very round stomach. A toddler, about two years old, with curly brown hair was scampering around her skirts. Three steps in front of her, an identical adult version of the kid turned around and smirked at her, a batch of freshly bought fish from the market trapped against his arm. An arm that ended with a wooden prosthesis imitating a hand. "What do you think, Germain? Would it be amusing to roll _maman_ around like a barrel?", he asked with an adorable French accent.

The child laughed, as if it was indeed the funniest thing he had heard in his short life. Usually, Brianna would never have dared to approach strangers like this, but if this man was indeed a Fraser, then there was a chance he would know the other members of the clan in the territory. Including Claire and Jamie.

"Excuse me...", she said, approaching the young couple. The blonde turned a questioning and even worried face in her direction and Brianna realized she had to look a bit pitiful with her swollen red eyes, her unruly hair and her sad expression. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation… Is your name Fraser?"

Fergus and his wife exchanged a wary look, before nodding.

"Do you happen to know Jamie Fraser and his wife Claire? I'm looking for them...", she said, trying not to stammer.

"Of course we ken them. Who’s askin’, if I may?”, said the young Scottish woman, putting a fist on her hip.

 _Straightforward and bossy…_ , Brianna thought, gulping. Despite her kind features and her being very pregnant, the blonde didn't seem like one to let herself be walked over by anyone. “My name is Brianna Fraser. I… I am their daughter."

The blonde's suspicious expression instantly disappeared and her lower jaw dropped slightly, as her husband raised his eyebrows so high that they disappeared into the crown of curly hair around his face. “ _Ça alors_!”, the young man exclaimed in French, as his wife narrowed her eyes and took a better look at Brianna.

"How old are ye?” Against her legs, the kid began to find this adult conversation a bit long and fidgeted.

"Twenty-two...", Brianna replied, realizing that the woman was trying to get more information about her before telling her anything.

"Please, Marsali, can't you see?”, Fergus exclaimed with a broad smile. “She's got the Fraser's red hair and Claire's curls. And her eyes are…”

"… Just like Jamie's…", Marsali finished, nodding. "Guid Laird..."

Brianna almost let out a sigh of relief. Finally, fate had put her on her parents' trail in an unexpected way. Whoever these people were, they knew Jamie and Claire personally, and seemed taken aback but delighted to find out about her existence.

"My name is Fergus...", the young man announced, with a beaming smile. “Your father took me in and adopted me when I was just a little boy, when he and Claire lived in Paris. And this is my wife, Marsali."

"Oh... nice to meet you.” It was Brianna's turn to smile broadly. Marsali seemed to relax a bit and her gaze fell on the bag Brianna was still carrying with her.

"Did ye just arrive in town?"

"Yes", Brianna nodded, her heart hurting at the thought. “My ship arrived this morning shortly before dawn. And I've been wandering around ever since... I was planning to visit my aunt, Jocasta Cameron, in River Run. I have no idea where Fraser's Ridge is and I was hoping she could help me."

Marsali nodded again, as if the information she was hearing had convinced her of Brianna’s good faith. "Fraser’s Ridge is ten days’ walk from here…", she said, immediately seeing Brianna's tired face fall a little more. “But the good news is if ye go now, ye willnae find them there."

"What do you mean?"

Marsali smirked and patted her round belly with one hand. "They must be on their way… Claire wanted to be there when the _bairn_ comes. They should be here in a few days."

Brianna opened her mouth and let out a sigh of relief. After flying across the Atlantic, walking through the Highlands, travelling two hundred years back, sailing across the Atlantic again... She had been kidnapped, chained, starved, sold, used, threatened… And seduced too. For months, nothing had gone as planned. Even love had taken her by surprise, before abruptly abandoning her back to square one.

And now that she was completely lost, her luck was finally changing, so quickly it was almost ridiculous. Her eyes stung and she tried to breathe to calm herself down, but judging by Marsali’s and Fergus’ incredulous expressions, she failed. Burying her face in her trembling hands, she began to cry uncontrollably, her back jerking violently with every sob. The couple looked at each other again and an actual battle of raised eyebrows and stares followed, as if they tried to telepathically decide what to do with this obviously exhausted young woman.

"How about a nice hot meal? We’re havin’ _cullen skink_ for lunch…”, Marsali offered, embarrassed by the tears flowing from Brianna's eyes. She nodded behind her fingers, and felt Fergus' valid hand pat her shoulder, while the fishes on his other arm jiggled dangerously.

Drying her tears, Brianna followed her hosts home. Immediately, Marsali disappeared in the kitchen, as Fergus took care of Germain and kept staring incredulously at this stepsister that literally came out of nowhere. Feeling useless, Brianna offered to help Marsali, who handed her onions and potatoes to peel.

"Where d’ye come from?”, Marsali asked while fanning the fire under the pot. "Why weren’t ye with yer mother for the past two years?"

Brianna bit her lip and looked down at her potatoes. She wasn't sure exactly how Claire had explained her absence for two decades, or if she had spoken of her other marriage. "I had to finish my studies before I…"

“In Boston?”

Brianna nodded.

“I didnae ken women could go to school. Surely a privilege acquired thanks to that man she lived with. He was a teacher, she said."

 _Oh_ … The young mother knew more than she let on and she didn't seem ready to be friendly as quickly as Fergus.

"That’s right…", Brianna replied with a shy smile.

“Any siblings?”, Marsali asked, angrily chopping off a fish head. "I’m askin’, in case Claire also failed to mention the existence of other _bairns_..."

"Marsali…", Fergus sighed, shaking his head. "Would you please stop with your questions?"

The blonde dropped the knife and fish before raising her hands in the air. "This is unbelievable, we traveled from Scotland and lived with the woman for months, and _yet_ sometimes I still feel like I dinnae ken anything about her! A daughter! She hid a daughter from us!"

Brianna pursed her lips, aware of the embarrassment she was causing to her mother in this century. Still, the fact that Claire hadn't even mentioned her own daughter once to Jamie's family in two years hurt her more than she would admit.

"Sorry, she's a bit frightening when she's pregnant…", the French whispered with a smile.

"Dinnae excuse her behavior, Fergus…", Marsali retorted, chopping off another fish head. "Even though Claire is a second mother to me and to ye, she is nonetheless strange an’ secretive. Too much for her own good."

"She's always been that way… People in Paris called her _la Dame Blanche_ , they thought she was a witch…", Fergus laughed, while Brianna smiled weakly. Behind his back, Marsali rolled her eyes as if to prove the French people right. A door slammed somewhere in the house and Fergus jumped to his feet.

"It must be Murtagh!"

“Could ye tell him to use the back door next time? I dinnae want Regulators runnin’ around the house in plain sight...", Marsali barked, loud enough so that the so-called Murtagh could hear her wherever he was.

“The back duir was locked!”, replied a gruff voice, also tinged with a strong Highlander accent.

"My point exactly...", Marsali muttered.

Brianna frowned. “What are the Regulators?"

Marsali froze, her knife ready to strike a fish, and the American realized she was wondering whether or not she should give her an answer. But someone appeared in the kitchen and cut her inner struggle short. Brianna turned her head to the newcomer, an old man with long white hair tied in a ponytail and an equally immaculate beard. To Brianna he was just a stranger, but when he saw her, the old man took a step back, before holding the doorframe with one hand. Muttering one single word: “Ellen…”

Brianna pursed her lips and smiled. “Actually, Ellen is my middle name. My first name is Brianna."

Murtagh Fitzgibbons couldn't believe his eyes. Apart from a few minor details, the girl standing in front of him was the spitting image of Ellen Fraser, mother of his godson Jamie. And her name was a feminine version of Jamie’s father's first name, Brian. Brian and Ellen… Brianna Ellen… it couldn't be a coincidence. Especially with _that_ face and hair. The Scotsman looked at Marsali, who sighed and rolled her eyes. The old man suddenly burst into laughter, startling Brianna and little Germain. After a minute, he wiped his eyes and looked at Brianna with deep emotion.

"That damn _sassenach_ will never cease to surprise me..."

"That's all ye have to say?", Marsali sighed, shaking her head.

Murtagh's eyes shone with a strange glow. "If Claire didnae want to talk about it, she probably had a very good reason…" He walked over to Brianna to grab her hands between his and squeezed them gently. “Murtagh Fitzgibbons. I am Jamie's godfather.”

Brianna's face lit up, but despite all the best will in the world, she couldn't make a sound. After twenty-two years of having her mother and Frank as her only family, she had met her step-brother (sort of) and her father's godfather in less than an hour. In other words, the size of her family had doubled. Not to mention Marsali and their little boy, as well as the unborn baby. It was a lot to take in.

"Where are ye stayin’, lass?", he asked, to help her speak again.

"Here," Marsali replied before Brianna could say a word. "Mark my words, she willnae leave this house until Claire arrives.”

"I don't want to bother you...", the girl began in a small voice.

"Dinnae be silly… Ye’ll sleep on the sofa, I will certainly appreciate to see a bonnie lass lyin’ there instead of a smelly old miser…", Marsali said ironically, glancing at Murtagh. The old man laughed.

"The smelly old miser has to disappear for a while anyway: the red coats are after me..." His expression darkened a little. "I will probably go to River Run, see if that old bat Jocasta is happy to see me", he said, seeing Brianna look up with interest. "Yer great aunt… She would love to meet ye one of these days. Too bad her eyes willnae let her see how much ye look like her sister Ellen."

"I'd love to meet her too," Brianna replied politely, though Stephen's speech about the plantation had somewhat dampened her excitement. She immediately chased the idea out of her mind: thinking about Stephen was way too painful. But it was too late. A shadow passed in her blue eyes and she vaguely heard Marsali cut another remark to Murtagh, then Murtagh’s laughter. With a little imagination, she could almost see Stephen sitting next to her, his hand resting on her lower back, as he had done when she had helped Flanagan in the kitchen just before the flu epidemic. She suddenly felt more alone than ever, a stranger in this house. She missed Jimmy's candid smiles, O’Brien's sarcasm, Boyle's jokes, and even Murphy's gruff muttering. And especially Stephen. All of him. Her fingers tightened around her knife and half-peeled potato, so hard that her knuckles turned white.

"Where can I… freshen up?", she suddenly asked, standing up. She caught Marsali's worried expression for a moment, but carefully avoided her gaze.

"Upstairs, there is a jug of clean water in Germain's room. First door on the left…”, Fergus replied with his everlasting soft smile. Brianna thanked him and climbed the wooden stairs as fast as decency allowed. Once in the bedroom, she closed the door and leaned against the panel, trying to take slow and deep breaths. But she soon felt her knees buckle beneath her, betrayed by her sleepless night and the violent emotions of the past twenty-four hours. Slowly, she slid against the wood, to the ground, and let her tears run free.

~o~

To say that the atmosphere on the _Gloriana_ during the four-day trip to Philadelphia was gloomy, was an understatement. Jimmy had simply stopped talking to his captain, not even making a sound as soon as Bonnet entered his field of view. The young boy didn’t seem to get over Brianna's abrupt departure and the pirate couldn't blame him. But as long as he performed his duties properly, he wouldn't hold his silent rebellion against him.

Jimmy wasn't the only one to take it badly. O'Brien smoked a lot more than usual, Boyle kept sighing loudly and he had even caught Doherty staring at a crate of valuables for a long time without moving an inch, when he was supposed to take stock of it before they arrived in Philadelphia. With her crazy ideas, her incredible treasure hunts, and unfailing _joie de vivre_ , Brianna had left a much more vivid mark than he had expected her to. Everyone realized it now she was no longer there and they had to get back to their drab routines. But it would pass. Everything passed, it was just a matter of time. Once MacNamara would have his share of the treasure, the rest would be distributed to the crew. The elders would surely take a well-deserved retirement, those who had a wife or children somewhere would join them for a while. There would be a few new faces. And things would go back to normal.

However, Stephen admitted to himself that he had been tempted, for one second, to give everything up for her. MacNamara, the smuggling… Buy himself a nearly deserted island where he would build a house, with a view on the open sea of course. Live every honest man’s dream. But it had only lasted for a moment. He was not a man of the land. And he wasn’t honest either. The idea of taking root for several years on a piece of land, rubbing shoulders with people as plain and dull as the ground they lived on, scared him. And even if he gave it a shot, for the love of his beautiful redhead lass, how could he be sure that he would not get tired of her eventually? After one, five or even ten years? He was not a man for commitments. At least not those that don't end up with a small pile of gold.

After spending four days mentally repeating this like a mantra, he had almost convinced himself when they arrived in Philadelphia. And it was a cool, relaxed Stephen Bonnet who left the _Gloriana_ to MacNamara’s gambling den, under Jimmy’s gloomy eyes.

"I hate it when he does that…", the cabin boy spat, kicking a rope with one foot.

O’Brien drew a cigar from inside his jacket and lit it with one of the deck lanterns. “Does what?"

"When something good happens to him and he ruins everything like a fool."

"He's got his reasons, lad," retorted the first mate. "How about you go for a walk in town, just to take your mind off things?"

Jimmy turned his angry eyes in his direction. "To do what? Meet a girl, love her and leave her because I'm panicking at the idea of being happy?” Jimmy laughed sardonically. "Thanks, but I don't want to end up like _him_."

"That's cheeky coming from someone who is convinced he deserves eternal banishment for an unfortunate accident...", O’Brien quipped, raising an eyebrow.

The teenager's ears turned scarlet and he clenched his fists. He was opening his mouth again, when Murphy's bearded head appeared through a cannon trap below them. "Jimmy, go have a walk around that damn harbor and don't come back until you've calmed down! Christ almighty, if the captain heard you…!” The old man disappeared back into the ship, grumbling and Jimmy shook his head, before he jumped onto the dock and strode away.

Meanwhile, Bonnet had reached the shabby building where Charles MacNamara ran his multiple activities. As always, the inner courtyard was full of gamblers and drug users of all kinds, and the pirate had to elbow his way through the crowd. A few scantily clad harlots crossed the courtyard, having probably spent the night somewhere upstairs, and he gave them an appreciative look. One of them smirked at him and he was about to return the favor when he noticed her long red hair cascading over her shoulders. His smile instantly froze and he scowled, quickening his pace up the main staircase.

After introducing himself to the giant guarding the entrance to MacNamara's office, the door opened and Stephen found the receiver busy groping the huge breasts of a half-naked prostitute. The pirate suppressed a smirk as MacNamara told the woman to leave, slapping her buttocks.

"You are alone?”, MacNamara asked with a dubious frown. "Where's Mulligan? The last letter I received from him came from Sint-Eustatius, to tell me that Shaughnessy had died of the flu..."

“We went through a terrible storm on the way back, I thought we would never make it out alive... The crew lost several members along the way. And Mulligan was among the victims."

MacNamara stared at Stephen with a neutral expression and the pirate stared back. They were both as calm as if they were discussing the menu of their latest meal.

“What about the girl?"

Stephen shook his head casually. "A bad wound took her away. The treasure island was a living hell. I lost one of my men there to a snake bite and she injured herself fighting one of the natives.” He saw his partner squint, as if he couldn't believe a word of his story. "This journey cost me a lot of strong and loyal sailors... If I had known what awaited us, I would have fucked that little schemer on the first night and thrown her overboard."

He had said it all in a relatively convincing bitter tone, but his opponent mastered the art of bluffing at least as well as he did.

"Did she mention other lost treasures before she… passed away?", MacNamara blurted out, letting the last word hang around indefinitely.

Stephen chuckled and bit his lip, his gaze drifting away and for a second, just before he blinked, he almost saw Brianna walk into the room with the necklace MacNamara had offered to her on their last visit. But the green glow of the clover was in fact the emerald eye of a bronze feline statuette. "You're going to laugh… Can you imagine that she had started to make a list for me, when she still thought that I would let her go… But I told her that I didn't need a list since I had her.” He shook his head. "Then again, if I had known..."

MacNamara leaned against the back of his chair and nodded slowly. "Our encounter was brief, but she surely was a woman of character... Do you know that more and more men pay a lot of money to break that kind of girls?"

Bonnet raised his eyebrows, feigning interest in the matter. But the threat behind MacNamara’s question was clear: _do you know what I'll do to Brianna if you ever had the audacity to lie to me about her death?_

"Alone or in small groups... The young woman is isolated in a room, the men force her to fight tooth and claw, knowing full well that she will never have the strength to overcome the customers of the day... Everything is permitted, no restrictions, no limits of any sort… Until she is nothing more than a rag doll in their hands.” The receiver’s eyes had not blinked a single time, a sadistic smirk floating on his lips. "I've seen some men making the pleasure last for hours. And the more the girl struggles, the more money I make.” He opened one of his desk drawers to pull out a cigar and light it with excruciating slowness. "I'm sure your young lady would have been very profitable.”

Stephen felt his jaw tighten, but by the greatest of miracles he managed not to show his anger. "I have to say she most certainly did justice to every sterling I paid for her croup," he said playfully, as MacNamara burst into an icy laughter.

"What a waste… Such a pretty lass…" Silence fell briefly between them and the two men sized each other up, looking for any sign that would betray the other. After ten seconds or so, MacNamara sighed and took a puff on his cigar, filling the room with a cloud of white, hay-scented smoke. "Well, I guess there's nothing we can do about it now... If it’s any consolation, I can send a few girls to the _Gloriana_ to cheer up your crew and yourself tonight. It’s on the house."

"That would be lovely."

The receiver was still staring intently at Bonnet, watching for the slightest twitch of an eyelid or the smallest micro-expression. But the pirate was perfectly controlling his attitude. Too much, in a way. "What about my treasure? What will I get from this crazy journey?”, he said cheerfully.

“My quartermaster has not yet completed his inventory, the storm did considerable damage and we gave priority to essential repairs. It should be done by tonight... But I can already tell you that there is a quite significant amount of gems of all kinds, precious objects and other riches that will be much appreciated by your clients. We will discuss the price later. As we agreed, I will also keep the gold, and I have to say there is more than enough of it to reward all of my men and restore the _Gloriana_ to pristine condition."

MacNamara curled his lips around his cigar. "Wonderful. It just so happens that I have a new order for you. A cargo of weapons, to be collected in the Caribbean and then delivered to Charleston and Cape Fear."

"As I said, the ship needs to be repaired before we can set sail, but after that I don’t see why not," Bonnet replied calmly.

"I will also provide you with a few handpicked men to replace those you lost on your previous trip... I would be grateful if you could bring those back alive, though."

Stephen gave him a wide fake smile and nodded. As expected, the receiver had not believed a single word and was determined to have him watched. _Go ahead, mate. By now, everything I had to hide is probably having dinner with her aunt in River Run_ , he thought with a hint of relief. He congratulated himself again for abandoning Brianna in Wilmington, then shrugged. “Of course.”

~o~

Brianna turned around, sighing for the hundredth time that night. The sofa Marsali and Fergus had assigned to her was not exactly comfortable, but she was so tired that she had slept there like a log for the first two or three nights. Now that she had recovered from her adventures, she had a hard time falling asleep and spent more and more hours with her eyes wide open. This sixth night in Wilmington was no exception. Days, on the other hand, had become easier to bear: Germain was an adorable little boy with whom she loved to play or take a walk in the city, Marsali had finally got over Claire’s secrets, becoming a listening ear even, and Brianna always managed to occupy her mind in some way. Until nightfall, when she was left alone with her dark thoughts.

Had Stephen met MacNamara? Had he survived this encounter? And if so, would he come back and get her? She knew it was still too early for the _Gloriana_ to make the round trip from Philadelphia, but she had gotten into the habit of passing by the docks every day in case Stephen had changed his mind and turned around. With a groan, she got up and walked over to the living room window, sitting down on the large wooden window sill, covered with cushions. Pressing her forehead against the glass, she looked up at the starry sky, feeling almost a hint of frustration. The square of sky she saw seemed tiny, far less immense and spectacular than on the ship’s deck. And that wasn't the only thing that had seemed narrower to her since she had arrived. The air was stuffier, the house walls too close, the ceiling too low, and the city too loud. The one and only thing that was nicer than at sea was Marsali’s and Fergus’ cooking. Whether they made French or Scottish meals, everything was always delicious and Brianna filled her stomach with joy.

She looked down at the few drawings she had made during the week and that piled up on the window sill at her feet. Stephen having stolen all of his own portraits, she had quickly drawn new ones. The pages were a bit messed up and she wondered if Marsali or Fergus had taken a look at them. Above her head, the ceiling creaked loudly, indicating that someone was walking upstairs. Brianna was not the only one who had trouble sleeping: Marsali regularly paced up and down her room, to relieve the pain in her back or her legs, or just to relax. The baby would be there soon and Brianna could only think about her mother’s and Jamie’s arrival. The thought of hugging Claire again, after saying goodbye two years earlier, filled her with joy. And Jamie… Her feelings for him were still mixed. She wanted to know and love him at least as much as she dreaded resenting him if he didn’t meet her expectations. Yes, he was her biological father, but he was also responsible for the slow decay of Claire’s and Frank’s marriage. The first mourning her long lost love and the second haunted by the ghost of a man he could never match in his wife's heart.

Brianna would understand that her mother had never forgotten her eighteenth century lover _if_ Jamie was actually perfect. But if he wasn't… if he was a backward bastard like most of the men she had met in this century, she was afraid she would blame them both for her family’s misery.

Another question arose: would she want to stay with them if things did not go as well as she hoped? And even if that was the case, would Claire agree to see her daughter live in such a violent and cruel time, especially with the coming War of Independence? Probably not. She would have to go. And the more the days went by, the more she felt that her stay on the _Gloriana_ had just been a dream, a surreal moment that could not survive reason and logic. Her whole world had been revolving around the pirate for so long she had lost touch with reality and now that he was gone, she realized how stupid she had been to consider leaving her whole world behind for him. The hold he had over her was stronger than anything she had known until then, and even if she wished he had stayed with her, a separation was needed to put her ideas back in place. That way, if one day he reappeared before she returned to her own century, she would know whether or not her heart was his or if the attraction she felt was just some weird sort of Stockholm Syndrome.

She looked down at her drawings again, saw Stephen staring at her with a mischievous glow in his eyes, and she smiled foolishly. For now, at least, she was still completely under his spell.

The next day had started like the previous ones. Fergus had woken up and prepared Germain, while Marsali cooked breakfast for a whole army. Then, Brianna had left to run some errands, which also gave her an excuse to take a detour through the harbor and look for the _Gloriana_. She had almost got used to this new routine, and the galleon's systematic absence on the docks hardly disturbed her anymore. What mattered to her was to go, check, and then pick up her day where she left off. Hoping that one day they would meet again.

"Still no sign of yer handsome sailor?", Marsali whispered as they finished their lunch and Fergus went upstairs to bed Germain for his nap. Brianna looked up, her cheeks turning scarlet. How had she guessed the reason for her daily visits to the harbor? Marsali chuckled and put on a falsely remorseful expression. "Sorry, I had a teensy glimpse at yer drawings. I was wondering who was responsible for that sad look on yer face..."

The redhead winced and shook her head to let her know she didn't have to apologize. "It's fine… Honestly, I don’t even know if I’ll see him again. I think that the only reason I keep watching the horizon every day is because I'm not ready to move on yet…"

"If the lad isn’t an idiot, he will come back! A lassie as bonnie an’ clever as ye are… He would be stupid to let her slip away."

Brianna smiled politely at the compliment, but didn't have time to answer. Someone banged at the door and a dog barked briefly outside the house. “Ah!”, Marsali exclaimed, but before Brianna could ask, the young mother disappeared from the kitchen to open the door.

"Oh, thank God, it's not too late! The baby hasn't arrived yet..."

Brianna felt her heart pound in her chest as she recognized her mother's voice. A voice she had thought she would never hear again, since that sad Christmas holidays of 1968, when she had travelled back in time.

"Well, that isnae quite true," Marsali sneered, loud enough to be sure Brianna heard her. “A _bairn_ _has_ arrived in this house, but not the one we were expectin’."

Brianna jumped when a huge wolfdog burst into the kitchen, its nose scenting the floor for crumbs to lick. He was immediately followed by a young boy who must have been barely older than Jimmy. “Rollo! Come here, Rollo!” The young man froze when he saw her, blushed slightly and broke into a broad smile. “Oh, forgive me, miss, I didn't know Marsali had a guest."

She was about to answer him when her mother's figure appeared in the door frame, her lower jaw literally dropping to her chest, and her eyes widening in surprise. The bag she was carrying over her shoulder fell loudly to the floor and the next moment mother and daughter were hugging tightly, Claire tirelessly running her fingers through Brianna's red curls, as if to make sure she was real.

Brianna closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself be carried away by the sweet feeling of being in her mother’s arms. Claire kept whispering “How? But…? What…?” without ever finishing her sentences, under the young boy’s dumbfounded gaze. When she opened them again, someone else had appeared in the room. A huge, robust man, with long red hair and blue eyes, was staring at her in amazement. His square jaw clenched, but that was the only visible evidence that he hadn't turned into a statue.

Claire pulled away from her daughter and, trembling with emotion, turned towards the man. "J-Jamie… It's Brianna… Our… Our daughter is here…"

This seemed to be the confirmation the man had been waiting for, and at those words his eyes instantly began to shine, filling with a few discreet tears. His thin lips twitched into a smile. A smile of pure happiness. Beside him, the young boy seemed totally lost and watched the scene as if he had no idea what was going on.

Brianna blinked, not sure how to react in front of that father she had only heard of two years ago. Jamie took two hesitant steps forward and reached out to his daughter's temple. She tried to say "hello" to break the awkward silence but her throat was so tight she couldn’t utter a sound. And anyway, the Scotsman had just grabbed her by the shoulder and pressed her against him, under Claire's teary eyes. After a second of surprise, Brianna smiled against her father's chest and hugged him back. She then heard Jamie Fraser's deep, slightly quavering voice for the first time in her entire life:

“Welcome home, _mo leannan_.”

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**A rather calm chapter even if there is a lot going on! Brianna has met part of her new family (I love Marsali and Fergus, they're too underexploited in the show in my humble opinion) and finally reunited with her parents. What did you think of Stephen and MacNamara’s meeting? I can smell trouble… Even though Stephen is dealing “quite well” with the separation at the moment (unlike Brianna, who has a pathological need to stare at the ocean), that could change very quickly...**

**I can't wait to read your comments and until next Monday, I wish you a great week!**

**Xérès**


	19. Bí Thusa 'mo Shúile

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**This chapter will be rich in revelations, also with a manipulative and lying Stephen Bonnet, very much inspired by Season 5 episode 10 hahahah That’s all I have to say. I hope you’ll like it and I especially look forward to reading your reactions to the ending...**

**As usual, feel free to leave a little comment after you read, this is the only way you can thank me for hours and hours of work every week!**

**Thank you all of you who read, commented and kudozed the previous chapter!**

**oOo**

  1. _Bí Thusa 'mo Shúile_ (Be Thou My Vision)



As promised, in the evening, a few harlots – graciously offered by His Majesty Charles MacNamara – had invaded the _Gloriana’s_ deck. The women’s chuckles soon mingled with the sailors’ drunken voices and heavy laughter, chasing away the prevailing gloom that had settled since Brianna’s departure. Brooding over his encounter with the receiver, Stephen had not joined the others at first but soon caught one of the girls’ insistent gaze on him. He pretended to ignore her and raised his whiskey bottle to his lips, but when he lowered his elbow, the girl had magically materialized beside him.

"I’ve heard whiskey and women are the key to happiness...", said the prostitute with a provocative smile. “…and I’ve come to notice that you’re missing the better half of it.”

"Indeed, this bottle is half empty...", Bonnet muttered, knowing very well what she was implying. The whore burst into a shrill laugh, as if it was the wittiest thing she had ever heard, and dropped onto the pirate's lap, pressing her very full corset under his nose. She wasn't exactly in her early youth, maybe in her thirties, but life certainly hadn't spared her face and chapped skin. She was still quite pleasing to the eye, though, and in other circumstances Bonnet wouldn't need any persuasion to have her against a wall. But tonight he was not in the mood.

“You seem thoughtful and sad, Mister Captain…” The girl caressed Stephen's scar and he felt her breath against his chin.

"Since when do lassies like you take any interest in men’s sadness?”, he quipped with a smirk.

"Oh, since the dawn of time, actually..."

The woman’s voice was no more than a whisper and he stared at her a little more carefully. A brunette, hazel eyes, a turned-up nose, huge breasts and wide hips. She was Brianna’s antithesis and maybe that was all he needed to forget her completely. The redhead wasn’t here anymore and even if her presence had given him a glimpse of the silly and surreal possibility to live a different life, it was over now. He needed to get back in the saddle and move on. Regain his freedom and chase her out of his mind.

"Maybe we could go somewhere more private?", the brunette whispered, kissing him greedily. Stephen kissed her back before pushing her off his knees to lead her to his cabin. Why not, after all ? Brianna was nothing that a few women and a little time couldn't erase from his memory. Or so he thought.

The girl chuckled when he threw her inside the cabin, as if his brutality pleased her. He walked in and paused. There on the bunk, for a moment, he had clearly seen her. Her half naked body in his sheets, her perfect skin glowing in the candlelight and her red hair cascading over her shoulders. But then he had blinked and the vision was gone, replaced by a desperately empty and cold bed. He gritted his teeth and closed the door behind him, before turning back to his evening guest. The whore bit her lip suggestively and rested her buttocks on the table, sweeping away with one hand what was on the surface: Brianna's last clothes, the ones she had taken off in the corridor, hoping he would hold her back and admit feelings he refused to have. A shadow passed over his face and he leaned forward to pick them up. _Throw them in a corner and forget about them_ , a voice said somewhere in his brain, but hardly louder than a whisper. He was still clutching the garments between his fingers when the prostitute climbed down from the table and rubbed herself lasciviously against him.

"That look… is that of a man whose heart is no longer to take…", the brunette breathed, slowly taking the clothes out of his hands and throwing them onto the bunk. Bonnet turned his attention back to her, but he no longer wanted to play. "Tell me, that evil thief that took your heart… is she waiting for you somewhere?"

Even though she used her most casual and flirtatious tone, something aroused Bonnet's suspicion and he suddenly understood what she was doing. The questions weren't innocent and he cursed himself for not realizing why MacNamara had sent him some girls for free tonight. His green gaze hardened and he saw the prostitute's face turn dangerously pale just before he grabbed her by the throat and slammed her hard against a wall. She let out a stifled cry and dug her fingernails into Stephen's wrist, without much effect.

"Did he ask you to bring back some information?”, Stephen growled, leaning towards the brunette's terrified eyes.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about…", she choked, shaking in every limb. But the answer didn't seem to satisfy the Irishman, who pulled his knife from his belt and pressed it against the girl's cheek, just under her right eye. She let out another panicked cry and tried to throw her head back as far away from the blade as possible. In vain. "Alright, alright. He asked me to sleep with you and if you didn't want to, I had to make sure that your lady was really dead and not hidden somewhere safe..."

Stephen's nostrils dilated for a moment, making him even more threatening, as he became fully aware of MacNamara's schemes, and the prostitute whimpered again. "Please, I'm just following orders..."

But Stephen ignored her. He was thinking. Intently, at full speed. It was useless to give her money and ask her to lie to MacNamara, because he knew from experience that each of his girls was systematically stripped and searched after every shift, to prevent them from saving money. There was also no point in threatening her, for all his threats could never match what MacNamara would do to her if he caught her lying. The only way out was to be convincing. Over the weeks he had spent with Brianna, he had seen her burst into tears several times. Out of anger, sadness or fear, and each time it had intrigued him. He wasn’t used to make women cry, since all those who usually shared his nights were paid for it. And when he did, it was because they had attacked a ship and stolen every last gem from its female passengers.

In other words, he knew what a scared face looked like, but sadness… He had learnt that with Brianna only. He remembered her tears after their argument in Philadelphia, when she had been attacked and saved by the crew. He remembered the day he had found her sobbing on the balcony on their first night at sea, and more recently when she had begged him not to abandon her in Wilmington. He just had to imitate her, let the memories wash over him and hopefully that would be enough.

Deliberately shaking the hand that held the blade, he gulped and lowered his arm, releasing the pressure on the harlot's neck. She took a deep breath, not moving a bit for fear that he might change his mind. He focused on the vision of Brianna, crying at the thought of being separated from him, and soon felt his nose sting, as if pierced by a hundred small needles. He skillfully twisted his mouth down and soon his eyesight blurred as tears formed down his lashes. The whore blinked in awe, and he knew his stratagem was working.

"She's dead... she's really dead... oh Lord...", he whined, running a hand over his face, as if saying it out loud made it a little more real. He even staggered slightly and the brunette rushed over to place a chair behind his legs and invite him to sit down.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I had to make sure that...", she stammered, obviously quite upset to see such a man burst into tears. Stephen had to suppress a sneer and bit his thumb, faking distress.

"You had orders...", he said, wiping a tear away with the back of his hand. "It's just… I lost the only woman I've ever loved… Do you understand?” He lifted his devastated face to her and saw by the look she gave him that he had convinced her beyond expectations.

"Sure… sure…", she cooed, taking Stephen's face in her hands to caress it and dry his tears. "You are not the first man to experience a... _blockage_ after his wife died. This is completely normal…"

Stephen nodded repeatedly, as if greater truth had ever been spoken, and the girl smiled at him encouragingly. "Don't worry about your men… I will walk out of this room pretending I just had a great time with you, and I will tell Master Charles how devastated you are. In all discretion, of course."

Stephen gulped again and sniffed loudly. "Thank you... And I am truly sorry for... threatening you.” His own ability to lie through his teeth would never cease to amaze him and he almost sneered again.

"Forget it!”, the brunette said, waving her hand in mid-air. “I've been treated worse in my job. Would you like me to stay with you for a while or would you rather be alone?"

"Alone", he replied immediately, a little more sharply than he wanted to. To dispel any doubt, he sniffed again and his mouth twitched. The girl pursed her lips with a compassionate expression and patted his cheek one last time before heading to the door, which she closed behind her as quietly as possible. As soon as the latch clicked behind her, Stephen's face went neutral again and he quickly wiped away his fake tears with an annoyed sigh. Still sitting in his chair, he rested his elbow on the table beside him and nibbled once more on his thumbnail, frowning.

What had just happened left him with a bitter aftertaste and he didn't like that at all. Of course, he had expected to be watched for a while, but MacNamara's spying on him into the privacy of his own cabin was tremendously irritating. And there was another problem: the ease with which his tears had flowed at the mere thought of Brianna disturbed him, even if it had certainly saved his life tonight. He had been keenly aware from the start that their relationship was unlike anything he had ever known before, he who never cared about any woman. But she was haunting him, ruining every attempt to have his way with other women... There had first been this fleeting vision in MacNamara’s office, and now her naked silhouette in his bed. The way he had picked up her clothes when the whore had thrown them to the ground. Yes, he had wanted her tirelessly for more than two months, had done everything to protect her during their journey together, he had loved submitting her body and soul to his will, and feeling her shiver under his touch... He was fully aware of this. But never had he imagined that he would not be able to pick up his life where he left off on that fateful September 3rd, when he had bought her in Jamaica.

What if it never stopped? What if he spent the rest of his life dreaming about her without ever being able to touch her again? Or touch any other woman for that matter? He groaned and his frown deepened a little more. He wouldn’t be able to go back to Wilmington as long as he was under surveillance, anyway. He could try to get rid of MacNamara, but the man was almost untouchable, constantly surrounded by a horde of clients or henchmen. The only solution was to wait. And God only knew that Captain Stephen Bonnet wasn’t known for his patience.

~o~

To say that the days after Claire’s and Jamie's arrival in Wilmington had been perfect wasn't quite right, but it certainly came close. Claire was in a constant state of excitement, overjoyed to welcome a new family member soon and to be reunited with her beloved daughter. Brianna had finally been able to warn her about the fire, and Jamie and Claire had decided that they would leave Fraser's Ridge on every January 21st, so as not to risk perishing in the flames. This had taken a huge weight off Brianna's shoulders and while it was certainly not recommended to change the past, she doubted that saving two anonymous lives somewhere on the planet would have any adverse consequences for the course of History. Her mission was accomplished and she could now enjoy her stay, while getting to know her father, as well as her little cousin Ian Fraser Murray and his dog Rollo.

Jamie was also close to perfection. Although sometimes a bit gruff, he – unlike the men of his time – did not hide his tenderness and love for his family. He kept staring at Brianna, moved and intimidated by her presence at the same time. A certain distance remained between them, one not quite knowing how to approach the other yet, but the gap was closing more and more every day, much to Claire's happiness. Jamie had wanted to know everything about her studies in History and Mechanics, had marveled at her drawings of the _Gloriana_ ’s sailors (except Stephen’s, which she had stored in a more discreet place), and never ceased to tell her how much she looked like his own mother. He had also had a few emotional words for Frank, that stranger who had raised Brianna and had obviously done an admirable job. At that moment, Brianna had hugged him, her heart swelling with gratitude. Three days later, Marsali had given birth to her second child, a girl they named Joan, and the house definitely ceased to be a quiet place when the little one decided to celebrate her arrival on Earth by screaming her lungs out on a round-the-clock basis.

Brianna, whose sleep was already far from optimal, ended up barely sleeping at all, so much so that Claire offered to have her sleep at the tavern where she and Jamie were staying. But Brianna refused. Fergus and Marsali's house was much closer to the harbor, and though she didn't want to admit it, her walks to the docks had become a routine she couldn't live without. Especially when Joan started screaming at the top of her lungs, Brianna always offered to go shopping, post a letter or any other outdoor activity. But the galleon was still nowhere in sight.

About ten days after Joan was born, and nearly a month after her arrival in Wilmington, Brianna came home at sunset and found Marsali comfortably seated in a rocking chair in the living room, Joan sucking on one of her breasts.

"Still nothing?”, Marsali asked quietly, already knowing the answer. The question had become routine as well, but she never gave up hope that one day the answer would change. And she would finally be able to meet the handsome sailor who had stolen Brianna's heart.

The American shook her head and put her satchel on the sofa. "Big dark clouds on the horizon, nothing more... A storm is coming."

"Then I will be prayin’ tonight for his safety", Marsali said with a soft smile, and Brianna smiled back, thinking that she would certainly be sparing her prayers if she knew about Stephen's actual business. The blonde opened her mouth, probably to ask more questions, but Claire and Jamie burst into the room, their arms full of clean sheets and clothes. In addition to monitoring the baby’s health, Claire did most of the housework with the help of the whole family so as not to tire the young mother, and this included doing the laundry. Claire put it all on the living room table and smiled. Never had she imagined that one day her daughter and daughter-in-law would be reunited under the same roof, chatting like sisters.

"D’ye need anything else, Marsali? Before we go back to the tavern for the night?”, Jamie asked, smiling at Joan resting on Marsali’s side.

“Thank ye for yer help but I will be fine. Ye dinnae have to do all this for me anymore, I've been feelin’ a lot better for several days now..."

"That's what I told him, but he insists", Claire joked, giving Jamie a gentle nudge. But she wasn't fooling anyone: everyone knew full well that she was completely besotted by Joan and only looking for more excuses to stay in Wilmington.

"To be honest, we were considering going home shortly... Our house will be finished soon, and ye an’ Fergus will be able to join us with the _bairns_ ", Jamie announced proudly, before turning to Brianna, whose smile had faltered slightly. "Would ye like to discover our land, _mo leannan_?"

Brianna opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She tried to smile and felt Marsali's gaze turn to her instantly. "Well…", she stammered, but as she couldn’t find her words, she just shrugged.

"Maybe ye could stop by Jocasta's first? It’s only an eight-hour ride from here...", Marsali intervened, glancing sharply at Brianna. But for the young woman who had gotten into the habit of coming and going several times a day to the harbor, it could just as well be on the Everest. Claire narrowed her eyes, sensing that something was going on between the two girls, but Jamie thought the idea was excellent and broke into a broad smile.

"That's reit, my aunt will be happy to meet ye. She's a woman of character too, this should be quite interestin’ to watch...", he joked as he readjusted his coat over his shoulders. “We will discuss the details tomorrow. Let's not bother them any longer, _sassenach_...", he said to Claire, who nodded.

"I'll meet you at the tavern… I'd like to have another look at Joan's rash before I leave."

Jamie nodded and with a last smile at his two daughters, he disappeared, leaving the three women alone and all fully aware that little Joan’s rash had already healed about two days ago. When the front door slammed, Claire slowly approached Brianna and sat down next to her on the sofa. "Is either of you planning on telling me what's going on, or do I have to guess?”, she asked gently.

Marsali raised her eyebrows at Brianna, who answered with the same gesture, under her mother’s puzzled gaze. The blonde had spent several days trying to convince Brianna to talk to her mother about this, without success. The farce lasted at least fifteen seconds, before Brianna sighed exasperatedly. “It’s nothing at all, I'm just a fool hoping for something that will never happen. I will be happy to go with you to Fraser’s Ridge”, she concluded in a tone that suggested she was not entirely convinced.

“Seriously?”, Marsali protested. Over the weeks, she had become more and more curious and only wished to see that mysterious sailor reappear and declare his undying love to his beautiful passenger. Brianna looked sternly at her, but Marsali didn't wait for her answer. “Fraser’s Ridge is ten days’ walk from here. Are ye sure ye can take it?"

"I will have to, I can't stay here moping around for the rest of my life…"

"Moping around?”, Claire repeated. "What in the devil...?"

Her daughter’s smile was far too wide to be honest. "It's nothing, nothing at all, really."

"Brianna doesnae want to leave Wilmington in case the man she loves comes back!", Marsali said at lightning speed.

Brianna’s mouth formed a perfect O and she let out an exclamation of protest, feeling utterly betrayed.

Claire’s eyes went from Brianna to Marsali and then back to Brianna in less than one second. "Roger is here too?"

“Roger?”, the blonde mumbled, frowning. “No, Stephen!"

“Who is Stephen?”

Brianna groaned and sank back onto the sofa, her arms folded, just waiting for the other two to stop their incessant questioning. Silence fell in the living room and Brianna soon felt two sets of eyes staring at her expectantly. She glared at Marsali and the young mother suddenly decided it was time to put Joan to bed.

"Well, I think it’s time for ye to have an interestin’ mother-daughter conversation…", she said in a much too cheerful tone. Brianna’s eyes were still shooting daggers and Marsali added as she walked past her: "Ye'll thank me later."

"I doubt it very much...", the redhead scolded, watching Marsali walk away with a smile on her face. When she was gone, Claire raised her eyebrows and waited for her daughter to explain what was going on. Brianna let out a long sigh and told her everything: her arrival in Wilmington at the end of August, her kidnapping, then the auction in Jamaica. She told her about the pirate who had bought her and whom she had taken on a wild treasure hunt from Cape Cod to Saba. She talked about MacNamara and the threat he posed over them. But also about the feelings that were born despite the chaos, until the day they had gone their separate ways. Claire had let her speak without stopping her, listening to her story attentively. She had widened her eyes in horror when Brianna had been sold, smiled weakly when her daughter had mentioned her strange romance, had expressed concern upon hearing about the man who had threatened her in Philadelphia.

Even if Brianna wouldn't have confessed it under torture, Marsali had been right. Finally talking about everything she had been through since the end of the summer was liberating and Brianna felt the weight on her shoulders lighten more and more with each second. When she finally stopped her monologue, a strange silence fell in the living room and the young girl raised a worried look towards Claire, who blinked several times. Uncomfortable, Brianna lowered her nose and shook her head. "I know what you must be thinking..."

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Frank would have been green with envy!”, Claire exclaimed with a brief burst of laughter. It was Brianna's turn to blink in disbelief. "He was already a little angry with me for having the privilege to meet his ancestors, but… his own daughter sailing with pirates and hunting treasures, he would have resented you for years..."

Once the surprise passed, Brianna smiled softly, aware that her mother was somehow trying to de-dramatize the situation with humor. And maybe she was right to do so. Everything had ended well, she was safe and sound, had reunited with her family… The outcome could have been much worse.

"I understand now why you didn't want to get away from the coast...", Claire said, grabbing her daughter's hand in hers. “After meeting Jamie, I was ready to get into all kinds of trouble the second he was pulled away from me. For the worst troubles were nothing compared to the pain of the smallest of separations."

"Maybe our bond wasn’t as strong as yours, or he wouldn't have left me here…", Brianna mumbled.

Claire cut her off at once. "I'm glad he did. That man from Philadelphia looks way too dangerous to me... and you had to warn us about the fire. Now that you have accomplished your mission... several options are available for you."

“Options?” She leaned forward and lowered her tone to make sure no one else in the house could hear her. "Won’t you try to convince me to go back to our time?"

Claire sighed. "I'd much rather know you are safe in the modern world, of course... but I'd be nothing more than a hypocrite if I forced you to go back. I’ve left everything, including you, to come here."

Brianna pursed her lips, suddenly aware of all the possibilities. Should she go ? Stay? In this century or two hundred years from now? Any small decision would impact her entire life, her parents’, maybe Stephen’s too if he wasn’t already dead… But she just wasn’t ready to choose yet.

"We could spend some time in River Run", Claire went on. "Fergus can easily let us know if the ship reappears… And when you’re ready… we can go home. Or not, if that's not what you want."

 _Home_ , Brianna thought, a strange feeling tightening her chest. _In Fraser’s Ridge_. "What are we going to tell Jamie?”, she asked under her breath.

Claire bit her lip and nodded thoughtfully. "I think we'd better not mention the illegal nature of your captain's business… at first. Jamie may be more modern than his peers, pirates are not exactly popular in 1770."

"You don’t say…", Brianna laughed, nudging her mother gently. Claire let out a small laugh before slipping a hand behind her daughter's back and resting her head on her shoulder. Silence fell between them for a few seconds.

"I'm glad you found us, Bree…", she whispered at last, her voice slightly clouded with emotion.

Brianna squeezed up a bit more against her mother and smiled. “Me too, mama.”

~o~

His hands on the _Gloriana’s_ helm, Stephen flinched as a shiver ran down his spine and he wrinkled his nose. The weather wasn’t too cold at the end of November on the coasts of North Carolina, but certainly more than in the Caribbean from where they came with the holds full of the weapons MacNamara had promised to the Regulators. The rebel group – which fought the English governance and protested against the taxes that smothered the inhabitants of the Thirteen Colonies – had turned to the East Coast underworld for weapons and ammunition. The more the anger brewed, the more weapons they bought and the British now considered them as major terrorists. To Bonnet, they were nothing more than angry peasants attacking carriages full of His Majesty's gold, but he didn't care who his clients were as long as he got paid.

The coast on the outskirts of Charleston, where they had delivered half of the cargo twenty-four hours earlier, was a maze of swamps and wild islets, far less populated than the northern shores, but it suited him just as well. Their next destination would not be as private : Bald Head Island was another swamp at the mouth of the Cape Fear River. About sixty kilometers separated the place from Wilmington and if someone had reported them to the Charleston authorities, a bunch of red coats would undoubtedly be there to welcome them in Bald Head.

All the way from the Caribbean he had tried not to think of the distance closing between him and Wilmington, where he had abandoned Brianna more than a month earlier. He kept wondering if she was still there, stupidly waiting for him. It was precisely because he had asked her not to wait that she surely had, now that he thought of it. Just like every time he imagined the young woman standing on the docks, waiting for a ship that never showed up, he felt the urge to stop in Wilmington. Luckily for him, he had a very easy way to get his ideas straight again. His eyes left the coast for a moment and rested on two of the six men MacNamara had so kindly provided. The mere sight of their sinister faces, constantly watching his every move, reminded him that he couldn't put her at risk. He would never moor in Wilmington as long as these fools would be aboard.

The presence of the receiver's henchmen had also become a problem for his personal finances. In every harbor, Bonnet had to find a girl, bring her to his cabin, then pay her a large sum of money so that she left satisfied... and silent. So far, the stratagem had worked beyond expectations. He had worried at first about the rumors that would definitely spread among harlots about his "blockage" (which wasn’t even a lie anymore, as he had been unable to touch any other woman for weeks despite many attempts). But one of them had reassured him by telling him many men ordered girls just to impress their peers, and that they were used to these kinds of requests. For safety reasons – and out of pride as well – he still told them the story of his dead beloved Boston girl and even got used to the prostitutes’ compassionate look when he forced himself to cry. He had gotten pretty good at it, discovering an unsuspected ability to cry on command. Several times he had even thought he caught a glimpse of Brianna's exasperated face, rolling her eyes from one corner of the cabin as he told his litany of lies to the evening whore.

He smirked slightly at the thought and looked back towards the approaching land, shrouded in a thick autumn mist. With a little imagination, he could almost feel Brianna's back against his chest, reminding him of the first time she had come to seek physical contact after he had left her stranded for two days. All those visions, those memories… he had taken them as an affront at first. How dared she haunt him when he had decided consciously to let her go? Over the weeks, he had resigned himself to it, sometimes even provoking the memories – just as he was now. His subconscious was the one and only place MacNamara and his men still couldn’t access, so why not take advantage of that? Since they had invaded, trampled on and ruined everything else.

Hours later, the last crates of arms and ammunition were in the hands of the North Carolina Regulators. With a satisfied smile, but still scanning the surroundings for any sign of an ambush, he ordered Doherty to bring the Regulators’ money back on board and add it to the inventory. His men immediately obeyed and loaded one of the two rafts they had used to reach the beach, before going back to the _Gloriana_. He was about to get into the second raft when he noticed that the only men left on the beach with him were MacNamara's. He immediately twitched and rested his right hand on his knife. He had been so busy watching the land for any sign of the red coats, that he had neglected what was happening on the beach. He heard a clicking sound just behind his right ear and knew that someone was holding him at gunpoint.

“You scream, you die. You take out your knife, you die. You move even one eyebrow…”, one of the men whispered huskily.

Stephen's upper lip curled up slightly. "Let me guess, _you_ die..."

The man threatening him struck him lightly on the head with a growl. The other five had placed themselves in front of Bonnet, acting as a perfect screen between him and the sea, so that none of the sailors would see what was going on from the raft.

"May I at least know why you are keeping me from reboarding _my_ galleon?” He had deliberately insisted on the possessive pronoun, thinking that MacNamara had given the order to get rid of the captain and take over his ship and all its riches. But he was wrong.

"Mr. Charles wants to bring your partnership to an end," another guy replied with a smirk. "He feels that you are no longer the man you were before and that it could endanger your activities. And by extension, _his_ activities as well."

"I see…" Stephen was internally boiling with rage, and though he tried to keep a mocking smile on his lips, his icy gaze could have frozen each and every one of these sons of bitches on the spot. “What are the orders? Kill me and bury me in a shallow grave?"

"Oh no…", another sneered. “There is a much more profitable solution for everyone. Except maybe for you... There’s a price on your head in this colony. And Mr. Charles has every intention to collect the reward."

The six men laughed unanimously and Stephen smirked for a few seconds as well, as if he was enjoying the joke. But as they scoffed, he turned around without warning, trying to disarm the man who pointed the gun at his head. The latter cursed and seemed to lose his balance for a moment. Stephen was clearly outnumbered, however, and before he could seize his own pistol, another gun grip hit his temple hard and he fell into darkness.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Well, does everyone really hate Charles MacNamara now…? Perfect ! That was the whole point. Having him watched by his henchmen was okay… Sending a prostitute to worm the information out of him…? Why not… But betray him like that? That man has definitely gone too far…**

**For those who watched season 5, I think we all agree that Bonnet crying and manipulating people’s feelings is the BEST thing to watch (this episode 10 killed me in every sense of the word, by the way). Marsali has stuck her little nose in Brianna’s love affair, but Claire finally knows the whole truth! I hope this scene did not disappoint you! And now… the ending! What do you think will happen to Bonnet? And the crew?**

**I can't wait to read your comments and until then I wish you a wonderful week! See you next Monday!**

**Xérès**


	20. Ar Éirinn Ní Neosfainn Cé Hí

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**This chapter is quite full of twists and turns and I hope they will be unexpected! It’s also a turning point in this story, as our two heroes will both experience something that will reinforce their feelings for each other. Nothing will ever be the same after this chapter! I hope you enjoy it ! Please let me know what you thought at the end!**

**Thank you all of you who read, commented and kudozed the last chapter!**

**~o~**

  1. _Ar Éirinn Ní Neosfainn Cé Hí_ (For Ireland I’d Not Tell Her Name) 



Brianna tightened her woolen shawl around her shoulders to block out the cold air. Every evening for the last ten days since they had arrived in River Run, she had gotten into the habit of going out on the porch to watch the setting sun. Unexpectedly, leaving Wilmington had felt right to her. While she had considered her daily strolls around the harbor as a reassuring routine, breaking free from it had been a relief. She had regained control of her daily life and although Stephen still haunted her thoughts, she no longer had that pathological need to stare at the ocean, hoping to see the _Gloriana_ appear. Meeting her Aunt Jocasta had also been quite an experience, and had helped her distancing herself from her life with Marsali and Fergus. Jocasta MacKenzie Cameron, three husbands to her credit and almost as many lives lived, was – from the top of her sixty-eight years – as gentle in appearance as she could be formidable, and ran the plantation of the late Hector Cameron with an iron hand.

Brianna had immediately sensed some tension between Jocasta and Claire. The old woman being blind, Claire took the liberty of wrinkling her nose whenever a slave performed any task in front of her eyes. The rumor that Stephen had heard was true, and it was later confirmed when her mother told her how she had tried to save a slave’s life after a foreman had sentenced him to death by hanging. The hatchet was far from buried between the two women but the etiquette forced them to swallow their pride and adopt a cordial attitude. Just as Brianna had painfully realized it when the cat o’nine tails had slashed her skin, neither she nor her mother could change anything to the condition of all slaves. Not without causing them more trouble than they already had.

Every minute of that incident was still carved into her memory and she shuddered as she remembered the disgusting sound of the ropes on her skin. The consequences, however, had been sweeter. Stephen had healed her wounds, had allowed Ayodeji to live as a free man, and most of all he had avenged her. She had never asked him what he had done to the slave owner and maybe it was better that way. His cold fury had had to come out somehow, and it sure hadn’t been pretty. The man from Philadelphia had had his throat cut for punching her face, she'd rather not imagine what a guy who whipped her twice and humiliated her in public had gone through. Stephen Bonnet was definitely a bloody, dangerous and unpredictable man, but he had also revealed other aspects that Brianna couldn't help but appreciate. She had also changed by his side, she had become braver and more confident. As the last rays of the December sun faded behind the hills, Brianna closed her eyes and let herself be mentally locked in the pirate's arms. She could almost feel his warm body behind her back, the smell of his cigars and contraband whiskey floating in the air, as well as the kisses he placed on her neck.

“Ah, there you are!”

Brianna gasped when an irritating and pretentious voice rose behind her back, and she rolled her eyes. She had been so carried away by her sweet memories that she had forgotten what she had escaped a few minutes earlier. Despite the joy of being able to spend time with her family, she had never imagined that living a life of luxury in her great-aunt’s estate would be so boring and dull. But that was without counting on the endless dinners that Jocasta organized with other landowners and representatives of the good society of North Carolina. And tonight’s dinner looked a lot like a trap: each invited old couple seemed to have a young and handsome unmarried son.

Brianna had been able to run away with her mother several times during the buffet and appetizers, but once seated at the dinner table she had been trapped between a James McKay and some Cornelius Boyd, and it was precisely the latter who had so brutally dragged her from Stephen's chimerical arms. The young man might be rather pleasing to the eye – with his chestnut hair tied back and his slightly almond-shaped hazel eyes – but his face and smile were as plain and insipid as his personality. Brianna plastered a polite smile on her lips and turned to the young aristocrat.

"James and I were wondering if you had run away from our company…", he joked.

Brianna refrained from telling him that was exactly what she had done and simply answered: "I just needed some fresh air..."

"Your aunt sent me to tell you dessert is about to be served...", Cornelius said, reaching out to escort her inside. "I’ve heard you crossed the Atlantic on your own to reach the colonies? Would you do the honor of telling us more about your hectic adventures at sea?"

Brianna reluctantly accepted his arm. She could almost hear Stephen sneer in a corner of her brain. He would have loved to watch her be bored to death by a bunch of harmless young men. And then lure her into a dark room to pervert her even more in private. God, how she missed him right now… She turned her head towards Cornelius and wondered which part of her adventure would be most appropriate for puddings and pastries.

"I'm not sure my aunt would appreciate it if I told you how I split a man's skull in half with a machete…"

The young man looked taken aback for a moment and she smiled so widely that he burst into a slightly nervous laugh – much to Brianna's delight.

"I was just joking, of course, this crossing was an _abysmal_ boredom," she went on with a high-pitched voice and a fake aristocratic tone that made her sneer internally. But her interlocutor seemed so used to hearing a woman speak like this that he didn't even understand the irony.

"Obviously. Those soft and gentle hands couldn’t commit such an atrocious crime…" He must have meant it as a compliment but to Brianna, it felt more like a reminder of her place in this world. A pretty doll and nothing more. "But for a moment, you said it so confidently that I almost started to doubt."

Brianna didn't bother to answer and walked back into the reception hall. Immediately, Ulysses, her aunt's Black butler (and also her eyes) leaned over his mistress to whisper something in her ear and Jocasta gave a slight appreciative smile. She probably already imagined her married and renamed Brianna Ellen Boyd. _Not a chance, Auntie. Plus, Brianna Ellen Bonnet sounds way better…_ The small version of Stephen she pictured in her brain choked on his glass of whiskey and shook his head with a frown.

As Cornelius pulled up her seat, Brianna sat down like a convict sitting on the electric chair. In front of her, Claire raised her glass of wine to her lips, and mother and daughter exchanged a weary look. Claire knew exactly what Jocasta was trying to do by inviting all these fops, which had actually led to an argument with Jamie who supported his aunt's actions. He hadn't been overly pleased to hear that his daughter had fallen in love with a common ‘sailor’ (he didn’t even know about the piracy thing), and hadn't openly disapproved. But he hadn't stopped Jocasta from inviting all the eligible bachelors in North Carolina either.

“Ah, here you are!”, James McKay exclaimed when she finally sat down. "We were admiring the magnificent magnolias that adorn this table and we were wondering what the magnolia flower symbolizes?"

Brianna saw him staring at her, as if he expected her to know the language of flowers. She was about to snap and tell him she had _no fucking clue_ , when Claire came to her rescue.

"Brianna studied History, among other things, but she never took any Botany classes…", her mother clarified with a polite smile.

"History?”, McKay's mother said, from a few seats away. "What is the point of studying History for a young woman?"

Brianna's eyelids flickered for a brief moment as she tried not to run out of the room screaming. “There is a lot to be learnt from History, Lady McKay. A nation that forgets its past condemns itself to relive it. And to make the same mistakes again."

Mrs. McKay let out a disapproving "hum" as she waved at one of the Black footmen in the corner of the room to have her glass filled with wine. "Well, it is fortunate our people haven’t made any mistakes on this new land, then!"

Claire coughed, probably to cover up a groan, and Brianna watched the slave pour wine in McKay’s glass. "Fortunate, indeed," she added coldly.

Luckily for her, the discussion was interrupted for a moment by the arrival of one of Jocasta’s slaves. The young man waved at Ulysses, who left his mistress’s side for a minute, then came back to whisper a few words in her ear. She looked surprised for a moment, her eyebrows rising briefly above her lifeless eyes, and she muttered "Go see what he wants", before getting on to Mrs. McKay again on a less controversial topic: the position her son had just obtained at the governor’s office, a man called William Tryon. Brianna smiled into her glass of wine. Her aunt had a gift for bringing up the most useful subjects without raising any suspicions...

"James is absolutely delighted, aren’t you, James?”, Mrs McKay chirped in delight.

"Lord Tryon is doing everything in his power to protect the people from the Regulators’ actions and it is truly an honor to be able to assist him...", replied James, while Jamie exchanged a quick look with Claire. Obviously, the young man was a million miles away from knowing that Murtagh Fitzgibbons, head of the Regulators and Jamie's godfather, was currently in hiding in one of the estate’s outbuildings, and placed under the protection of none other than the evening host. Jocasta seemed absolutely charmed by the young man's announcement and invited him to say more about Lord Tryon’s next moves against the Regulators. James was more than happy to oblige, not suspecting for one second that each word would soon be repeated to the enemy.

A few minutes later, Ulysses reappeared to whisper into Jocasta's ear again. She nodded briefly and Ulysses walked around the table to stand behind Brianna. "Miss, would you please follow me?"

She nodded, glad to escape the torture of this never-ending dinner, and walked off with the butler in the adjoining small living room.

"A dubious-looking man showed up at the gates... specifically asking for Miss Brianna Fraser," Ulysses said in a slightly disapproving tone.

"Dubious-looking, you say?” Brianna felt her heart pounding hard and she tried to take a deep breath despite her tight corset. Only one man knew about River Run and "dubious-looking" was certainly a word anyone would use to describe him at first sight. _He came back for me_ … She suppressed a smile and immediately asked: "Where is he?"

"I sent him to wait in the stables, Miss, but if I may, I do not think it would be appropriate to-"

But Brianna had already seized her heavy embroidered dress and rushed for the exit without waiting for him to finish his sentence. She walked through the main doors, grumbled and stopped when her heels dug into the wet lawn, took off her shoes, and ran again to the stables. To hell with dinners and suitors. To hell with decorum and etiquette. Nothing else mattered right now but Stephen and the fact that he had come back for her after almost fifty days apart. She stopped dead in front of the wooden stable door, wondering for a brief moment if she looked decent enough. Just before she remembered that it didn't matter. He had seen her disheveled, dressed as a man, he had loved her covered with filth and blood. He had touched her pure and strong, but also hurt, humiliated. Stephen Bonnet did not care about attires and distinguished outfits. He didn't care about the language of flowers. He laughed when she swore like a trooper. He had accepted her just the way she was, with all her weirdness, her modern ideas and her boyish ways.

Her hands shaking, she pushed the door and entered the stable. A groom had lit a lantern and stood in a corner of the barn, probably to act as a chaperone. Another man was there and to Brianna’s despair, he was not blond and his chest was not as muscular as Stephen’s. The newcomer turned towards her and her eyes widened in surprise. She would have recognized those bushy eyebrows and black hair anywhere. But his presence in this century made no sense, let alone here in River Run...

“Roger…?"

Her ex-boyfriend seemed to ignore her disappointed expression, mistaking it for surprise, and smiled. One moment later, he was running into her arms.

~o~

Stephen had no idea how much time had passed since MacNamara's men had knocked him out on the beach in Bald Head Island. Every time he had opened his eyes and regained consciousness, he only had time to feel the throbbing pain in his skull and a few other details before a fist or a pistol hit him and plunged him back into darkness. He had briefly recognized the pounding of horses’ hooves, men's voices, the characteristic sound of poorly oiled metal doors being closed and a lock clicking. He was awakening for the fourth or fifth time when his subconscious reminded him not to move an inch if he didn’t want to be hit again. The pain in his head was almost unbearable and he feared another blow would simply cause it to explode. Slowly, he tried to sort his sensations out and quickly realized that he was no longer lying but sitting on a chair. His hands were tied behind the backrest by a thick rope biting into his wrists and wrapped around his entire chest. He probably looked like a big French sausage. His ankles were also firmly attached to the legs of the chair. Even if he wanted to move every part of his body, he just couldn't.

Despite his headache, he strained his ears for any sound that could tell him where he was. But the place was perfectly silent, to the point that it became oppressive. It wasn't until his brain got used to the lack of ambient noise that he heard it: the breathing. A barely audible, calm and steady breathing, right in front of him. Someone was with him and he or she was very close. Too close. And too calm as well. Like someone who is convinced of his own victory.

“Good morning, Captain Bonnet.”

Stephen stiffened. Despite all his precautions, his observer must have noticed a tiny change in his attitude or in his breathing and had understood he was awake. His eyelids snapped open and he slowly lifted his head. He was in a tiny, windowless room, and the only light came from a single candle on a table in front of him. Behind this table was a man and Stephen let out a distinct growl as he recognized him. His white curly wig, his clog chin and drooping eyebrows...

"Lord Tryon… I thought I recognized your smell: a subtle blend of horse piss, defeat and… yes, a hint of mediocrity."

The thin, dry lips of the governor of North Carolina slowly stretched into a cold smile. "How dare you, a common thief, talk about my mediocrity and defeat when you’re the one tied up in one of my cells?"

Stephen tilted his head to the side and smirked. "If I was so mediocre, you wouldn't have bothered to come and say hello."

William Tryon's nostrils dilated slightly and Stephen knew he had hit a sore spot. His smirk widened and he looked away from the governor to glance around the cell with a falsely impressed expression.

"Are all common thieves entitled to so much luxury? An individual cell? A table and chairs? It’s almost better than the last tavern I visited. You wouldn’t by any chance have a glass of whiskey for me? I'm very thirsty…"

Against all odds, his request did not annoy his host, who smiled widely instead. "Oh of course, where are my manners?" Leaning towards the floor, he lifted a small bell and rang it. Behind the cell door, a face appeared and Tryon spoke to the newcomer without even looking at him. “Would you please serve Captain Bonnet a well-deserved refreshment?"

"You are too kind…", Stephen mocked before heaving a long sigh. "Now that we're both a little more comfortable, how about you tell me why I'm here?"

"I’m sure you have a pretty good idea."

Stephen's mouth formed an upside-down U and he seemed to think for a moment, before shaking his head. “Not the slightest. It can’t be just because of the piracy. You're a busy man right now, with all these Regulators scouring the roads. Too busy for a humble smuggler like meself."

“You mean the Regulators to whom you’re supplying weapons."

“I was just the carrier. I didn’t know what was in those crates. I was told it was whiskey...", Stephen said calmly.

The cell door opened and two English soldiers in red coats appeared, one carrying a pitcher and towels, and the other a large basin that appeared to be filled with liquid. Stephen gritted his teeth, aware that this was not the drink he had ordered, but somehow managed to control the fear that had invaded his whole being. They were going to torture him. With water of all things, by Danu. With that _damned_ water.

Tryon watched the two soldiers put the objects on the table, pursing his lips into a satisfied pout. One of the two men filled the pitcher with water, while the other slowly unfolded one of the thick cloths.

"I don't give a damn about your miserable arms smuggling, Captain Bonnet…", Tryon spat, narrowing his eyes. "I want you to give me the name… of the Red Witch."

Stephen frowned, taken aback. "Who?"

In response, Tryon nodded briefly at the two men and the one holding the cloth firmly grabbed Stephen's head to cover his nose and mouth with it. The next second, the other soldier slowly poured the contents of the pitcher onto the cloth, which gradually soaked up against the pirate's face, until he could no longer breathe anything else than cold water. The show did not seem to bother Tryon in the least. He enjoyed it, his smile widening every time the pirate's airways saturated with water and let out disgusting gurgles. Instinctively, Stephen tried to turn his head to escape the water streaming down on him, but the soldier's arms held his head as tightly as a vise. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he felt the cloth being removed and he tilted his head forward, spitting and coughing to get the liquid out of his nose and mouth. Tryon waited patiently for him to recover before he repeated his question.

“The Red Witch, Captain Bonnet. If you could avoid wasting everyone's time…”

“I don't know what you're talking about!”

Stephen had almost yelled his answer. And he was sincere, he had never approached a witch in his life, nor heard anyone mention that nickname. He was completely losing control of the situation. There was always a way to avoid torture by bribing your opponent or just giving him some information, but what do you do when you have no idea what to answer?

His face was covered again and before he could take a breath, water was flowing in his nostrils and between his lips. The rope tightened around him as his body jerked violently and the soldier tightened his grip around his head to keep it from moving. Behind his closed eyelids, he could see Brianna's supportive and gentle face, encouraging him to dive into the underground river of Saba Island. The water running down his face almost felt like her cold hands caressing his cheeks. He could even hear her sweet, reassuring voice... _'I will be there, right in front of you...'_ Just when he started suffocating, the cloth disappeared again and a spray of water gushed out of his throat with a particularly revolting noise.

A hiss escaped his lungs as air entered them again and he gasped for a few moments, trying to ignore the burn in his chest. The water could just as easily have been fire, it would have had the same effect. Tryon's voice rose again and Stephen sensed a hint of impatience in it.

“Several witnesses saw you with her. In Philadelphia, Cape Cod, Sint-Eustatius… You didn’t exactly go unnoticed…”

His rib cage still raising at a frantic pace, Stephen began to understand who Tryon was talking about. But why was he using that ridiculous nickname?

"Desecration of a grave... of a corpse... murders... smuggling... You and your lady are wanted across the entire East Coast. But I paid quite a lot of money to have exclusivity..."

"I knew you had a fling for me…", Stephen hissed, forcing a mocking smile on his soaked face.

"For you?”, Tryon laughed, crossing his slender fingers on the table in front of him. "No… you are of no interest to me. But a little bird told me that your witch knew where to find lost treasures... Gold and riches that could tip the scales in favor of the Crown if the rebels ever decided to declare war."

"In that case, you are too late...", he retorted. "She is dead."

Both men stared at each other for a moment, in complete silence. Then Tryon let out a long, long sigh and fell wearily against the back of his chair. Before waving his hand towards his soldiers. This time, Stephen had expected it and had time to inflate his lungs with air before the cloth and water fell on his face. He managed to hold his breath for so long that the soldier had to refill his pitcher and it took a long time before he started spitting and coughing loud enough for Tryon to give the counter-order.

“Don't think I’m a fool, Captain Bonnet. The Red Witch was seen by fishermen in Wilmington, leaving your ship early in the morning. Before disappearing into thin air…”

"They must have mistaken her for a whore I paid for the night. I think she looked quite like your wife, by the way..." That wasn't his best comeback, but the pain in his lungs and his heart wouldn't allow him to find anything else. However, the insult seemed to hit the target and he clearly saw Tryon’s jaw twitch. He glanced briefly at the tub, which was nearly empty, and motioned for the soldiers to walk away with it.

"Do you know a certain Thomas Willis, Captain?", Tryon asked calmly, as the soldiers disappeared down the hall without closing the door behind them. Stephen deduced that they would be back soon and that his questioning was far from over.

"You know, it will be a very long process if you keep askin’ me about people I've never heard of…"

Tryon shook his head, as if to let him know that question wasn't part of the interrogation. “Thomas Willis is an English physician of the last century. He was specialized in a subject he himself called "neurology". Or the study of nerves, if you like. He made astonishing discoveries about the stimulation of nerves and pain. I have read some of his studies and found them... enriching in many ways."

"I am so happy for you," Stephen quipped, even if he did not like the way the conversation was going.

Tryon leaned over the table. He did his best to be scary and instill fear in the pirate, but Stephen had regained some of his arrogance since the tub and pitcher had disappeared from his sight. “Do you know where the highest concentrations of nerve endings is in the human body, Mr. Bonnet?"

Stephen let out a gritty laugh and raised his eyebrows, running his tongue over his lips. "I do have an answer to that question, but I'm sure you’re not talkin’ about my co-..."

“Fingers, Mr. Bonnet. It’s in the fingers."

"Oh really? Who’d have thought?”, he blurted playfully. He was quite relieved to know that Tryon wasn't going to touch his most precious organ, though. At least for now. One of the two soldiers had reappeared in the cell, holding a small wooden box between his fingers. He opened it. Inside, neatly lined up on a velvet pad, were ten long, thin black spines, slightly tinged with purple. Sea urchin spines.

The Irishman's green eyes slowly went to the governor, who was still smiling. "I’m sure you can guess where I’m going with this?”, Tryon asked with a chuckle.

"I guess that… I will definitely need my hands if you want me to pick my teeth with these…"

"You always have an answer to everything, haven’t you?"

Stephen nodded. "I’m tryin’ to. Quickness of mind doesn’t just happen, ladies."

The English soldier took a spine between his fingers and positioned himself behind Stephen, who flinched when the man grabbed his right thumb.

“The Red Witch. Just say her name…”, Tryon reiterated under his breath.

Stephen smirked and tilted his head towards his interlocutor. “Her name.” He saw Tryon roll his eyes in annoyance but had no time to enjoy it. The soldier had jammed the urchin spine between the flesh of his thumb and the nail covering it, inexorably pushing the object deeper into the finger. A howl escaped Stephen's lips. How could such a small wound be so painful? It felt like his finger was being burnt from the inside with a branding iron. He was holding on, though, and was glad to see Tryon's expression darken with every spine forced into his fingers. When the box was empty, the soldier reversed the process and removed the spines from his fingers. The governor lost patience and left the cell, with Stephen's sardonic laughter echoing down the corridor.

Unfortunately, he was quickly replaced by a 6’’5 tall colossus who punched him for long minutes until Stephen lost consciousness again. For several days, the same scenario repeated itself over and over again: water, spines, beating. Then Tryon would briefly show up, simply asked for "her name" and disappeared again without getting any answer. Soon "her name" became the only two words he heard for days. The nights were short, Tryon made sure of that, but it still allowed him a few hours of peace. They untied him, let him collapse on the cold stone ground, but his broken body wouldn't get to sleep quickly enough to actually rest before it all started again. During these rare moments of peace, his mind therefore swayed between slumber and awakening, sometimes offering him a vision of Brianna gently stroking his wet dirty hair, or the sensation of her body against his. It was a miracle he had not let her name slip to his jailers yet, considering she was in each and every one of his thoughts. He feared the moment he would lose his head and no longer distinguish truth from falsehood, for he knew that Tryon would be there to get the information out of him.

One morning, as the governor came to ask him his daily question, and the soldiers were already installing a new tub of ice cold water and towels for the upcoming session, Stephen clearly saw Brianna staring at him, crying her eyes out, from a dark corner of the room. Her reddened eyes, the tears running down her cheeks, her swollen lips… He was about to tell her not to worry when one of the soldiers passed between him and his vision, brutally putting an end to it, before sitting him down on the chair.

"Her name."

Stephen's tired head fell limply on his chest, but he still found the strength to look up at the Governor. To his left, crouching in the shadows, Brianna was back, crying silently and he frowned with a pained expression. Tryon noticed that and turned his head as well, but there was nothing but darkness. His prisoner was starting to lose his mind, everything was going perfectly well. "Her name," he repeated harshly.  
In a corner of Stephen's brain, an ancient Irish melody had come back to him. "Though my comfort and joy she may be… She’s my own, she is my promised wife… _Ar Éirinn Ní Neosfainn Cé Hí_ …", he mumbled with a crooked smile.

"What did he say?”, Tryon promptly asked one of the soldiers. He had specifically asked for men who spoke Irish Gaelic, in case Stephen blurted out a few words in his mother tongue.

The soldier took a step forward. "It's an old song, my Lord. A love song about-"

"I don't care if he's singing about love or the fucking _God Saves The King_ , soldier… Translate!”, Tryon barked, startling the Englishman.

"It… it means ‘ _For Ireland, I’d not tell her name’_ , my Lord."

A heavy silence fell in the room. The governor was fuming and his soldier gave him a worried look. The pirate wasn't the only one showing signs of weakness: his resistance and stubbornness were starting to get on the governor's nerves.

"Skin the soles of his feet," Tryon blurted out before turning towards the exit.

"Mr. Governor," the soldier protested uneasily. "With all due respect, let me remind you that you need a judge's permission to torture a suspect for the purpose of gathering information, that is the law..."

Tryon turned to him, his eyes shining with anger. "I _am_ the law, soldier..."

“In that you are mistaken, Lord Tryon!”, a booming voice echoed in the hallway. A man in his forties, dark-haired and close-shaven, was striding up to him, looking quite angry.

"Judge Alderdyce…", the governor sighed wearily. "What are you doing here?"

"It has come to my knowledge that you are unlawfully torturing a prisoner whose capture has not even been reported..."

"I just haven’t found the time, your Honor...", Tryon said with a silken voice, but the Judge clicked his tongue and interrupted him.

"Five whole days and you haven't found a moment to send a message to the court?"

Tryon's lips pursed and he narrowed his eyes. If he caught the little snitch that had reported his actions to the judge, he would give him a hard time. "I have been really busy."

"In that case, let me take some of the work off you. Transfer Captain Bonnet to the city jail. As of now, he is under my jurisdiction and will be hanged for his crimes, under North Carolina law."

The governor slowly nodded, his eyes shooting daggers at Alderdyce. “Beware, my friend… This same law could backfire on you."

"Which means?”, the judge groaned, frowning.

"That the rumors about your… inclinations… might just as well lead you to the scaffold alongside Mr. Bonnet."

The Judge froze for a moment, terrified that his homosexuality would actually be an open secret, but he didn't lower his eyes and pointed a threatening finger at Tryon's chest. “I want this man in jail before the end of the morning. Otherwise, I'll send a report to London. They will be delighted to know that the rebels' anger towards you is well and truly justified.” He brought his face a little closer to the governor’s, his voice becoming a barely audible growl. "Bring me down and I'll make sure we both swing at the end of a rope."

Tryon's expression darkened and he watched the Judge walk away as quickly as he had come, before disappearing down the hall. The governor brought a hand to his lips and rubbed them nervously, casting a venomous gaze at Bonnet. The pirate was looking at him, his eyes half-closed under his wounds, bumps and colorful bruises. Stephen had never been happier to hear that he was going to die. Die before he could give to that son of a bitch the answer he longed for. Brianna would remain alive and well, and he himself could leave this Earth knowing she was safe.

A crazy laugh escaped his lips and Tryon came back into the cell to silence him with a major punch, sending him back into Brianna’s warm embrace for a well-deserved rest.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**There are so many things I loved writing about in this chapter! First, poor Brianna being bored to death at social dinner parties, instead of roaming the seas in the arms of her fiery pirate. Then Roger’s arrival, which will slightly turn the emerging relationship between Brianna and Jamie upside down... And especially the whole Bonnet-Tryon interaction, I love writing this kind of ping-pong scene where each character tries to have the upper hand. My dear Stephen paid a high price for his loyalty to Brianna, he will not come out of this unscathed… I can’t wait to read your thoughts about this chapter and what will happen next! While waiting to read your comments and I wish you a wonderful week! See you next Monday!**

**Xérès**


	21. 'S Fágaim mo Bhaile

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Y’all seemed to really like the previous chapter and I’m so glad because it was one of my favourites! This one should be quite the emotional rollercoaster as well, I hope you’ll enjoy it! It’s time to know why Roger has come here…**

**Thanks all of you who read, commented and kudozed last chapter!**

oOo

  1. _'S Fágaim mo Bhaile_ (And I leave my home)



“Roger ?”

Brianna had no idea how she felt at that very moment. Surprised, definitely: even if she had left him a letter in the twentieth century to explain where she went, they had parted on such bad terms that she had not imagined for one second that he would try to get in touch with her. She was also a bit happy, because his presence indicated that despite their disagreement, their friendship was not definitively over. But the predominant feeling was disappointment. Stephen hadn’t come back for her. And as Roger hugged her tight, she realized she had been stupid to think it was an actual option.

“Brianna…”, Roger breathed. “If only ye knew how happy I am to see ye...”

Brianna blinked several times, before awkwardly hugging him back. To be in other arms than Stephen’s felt absolutely weird, and she was almost relieved to hear the groom cough to remind them of his presence. She immediately stepped back with an apologetic smile, as Roger frowned at their chaperone.

“When… how… what are you doing here?”, she stammered, her eyes wide in surprise.

Roger lowered his voice. “I tried to call ye but yer roommate told me ye went to see yer mother…” He shook his head as if it was completely insane. “Why didn't ye tell me ye were planning to walk through the stones?”

The young woman opened and closed her mouth several times, not finding the right words. But Roger was staring at her, his brown eyebrows raised on his forehead. He wouldn't let go until he got a satisfactory answer. _Damn Scottish stubbornness_ , Brianna groaned internally, in a perfect imitation of good old Mr. Murphy.

“After our last quarrel… I was angry, I didn't really want to talk to you anymore…”, she whispered, lowering her eyes.

“Then why did ye leave me a letter in Inverness?”

New silence. Brianna pursed her lips. “In case I disappeared. You were the only person I could tell about my… trip. All the other people who knew about Mama's secret are dead or already _here_.”

“Right…”, Roger muttered, trying to pick up what was left of his dignity.

“But I'm glad you're here”, she added quickly. “Surprised, but glad. How did you know I was in River Run?”

“I found a copy of the obituary ye were referring to in yer letter, in the Fraser family records...”, he replied. “That’s how I found out about the Cameron’s estate. I suppose ye already warned yer parents about the fire, then?”

“Yes…” She smiled gently at him and he smiled back, nodding briefly. Roger's gaze lowered briefly to her lips and she felt his attitude change, as if he was mentally begging for a kiss. Brianna stiffened and when he started to lean over her, she took a step back. She didn’t want to push him away so brutally, but she had no idea how to act around him anymore. She was impressed that he had come all this way to find her, but she wasn’t the same girl who had fallen in love with him anymore.

Roger didn't seem surprised by her reaction, as if he had expected it. No, she was imagining things, he must have simply remembered that they weren't alone. As she didn’t want them to discuss their relationship’s future – or rather lack thereof – only five minutes after their reunion, she decided to quickly change the subject.

“In my letter, I had made it clear that you shouldn’t worry or try to find me before one year had passed… it's only been five months since I left Boston. You have taken unnecessary risks! Look, I'm perfectly fine!” She spread her arms and pointed at her embroidered dress and the jewelry her Aunt Jocasta had given to her, letting out an embarrassed laugh.

Roger chuckled very briefly and a shadow passed in his eyes. “To be honest... When I realized ye were here, I did some research...” He gritted his teeth and glanced worriedly at the groom. “I'd rather talk about this in private. And if a chaperone is absolutely necessary, maybe yer mother could-...”

Brianna frowned at his worried expression and nodded. “Of course… Come on.”

Taking the young man by the arm, she led him out of the stables and they made their way back to the house. Ulysses was still in the doorway and watched them approach with a disapproving frown. “I think he doesn't like me…”, Roger whispered, as they approached the porch.

“He described you as a ‘dubious-looking man’…”, Brianna chuckled.

“I’ve spent one bloody month on an old tub across the entire Atlantic, the contrary would have surprised me...”

Brianna laughed and Roger smiled, relieved to see he still had that effect on her.

“Miss?”, Ulysses said, raising his chin.

“Would you please ask my parents to join us in the small living room? Mr. MacKenzie has important news that he wants to share with us…”

“But... your aunt's reception is not over yet...”

“Please, Ulysses...” Brianna gave him her most beautiful pleading look and the butler pursed his lips.

“Of course, Miss Fraser”, he concluded, disappearing into the dining room. Roger was about to tell her that he’d rather speak only with her and her mother, when Ulysses came back with Jamie and Claire, who seemed pretty relieved to get away from that boring dinner. Brianna saw Jamie frown and scan Roger from head to toe, before leaning over to Claire's ear : “Is that him, _sassenach_?”

Claire ignored him. She was so surprised to see the young man had also been able to travel in time that she immediately cleared up the misunderstanding: “Roger! But… what are you doing here?”

Jamie seemed to relax, understanding that it was not that ‘Stephen’ fellow who had shamelessly abandoned his daughter, and watched his wife hug the newcomer.

“Jamie, this is Roger MacKenzie. I must have mentioned him. It is thanks to his research that... I was able to find you...”, Claire announced, her eyes shining. Her husband raised his eyebrows and he reached out to shake Roger's hand.

“It is to ye I owe all my happiness...”, Jamie declared solemnly and Brianna could have sworn she saw Roger blush at this moment.

“ _Aye_ , part of it at least”, Roger stammered. Jamie Fraser, with his broad shoulders, his square jaw, and electric blue eyes, tended to have that effect on people.

“Roger would like to speak with us in private…”, Brianna said, gesturing for them to move into another room. They all followed her and she closed the small living room door behind them, making sure that Ulysses or any other prying ears were not trying to spy on them.

“If that’s about the fire, my brave daughter already accomplished her mission...”, Jamie said, putting a proud arm around Brianna's shoulders, and she smiled at him.

Curiously, Roger didn’t smile and his face went even darker than it was a few minutes earlier in the stables. “When I read Brianna’s letter, I immediately went through the archives to see if her actions had changed anything. In the past. And I found this.”

Brianna felt her heart race and judging by her parents’ expression, she wasn't the only one. Roger reached into a pocket inside his jacket and pulled out a modern paper sheet with an ancient document reproduced on it. He unfolded it and handed it to Brianna. The young woman grabbed it and looked down, while beside her, Jamie slid a finger on the paper, almost fascinated. “How did they integrate the old document into this thin sheet?”, he mumbled, studying the paper more closely.

Roger hid a burst of laughter behind a coughing fit and cleared his throat. “It's actually a copy of the original document. It's a brand-new process they call ‘xerography’. The university I teach in recently bought one of these machines. Ye can make dozens of copies in just a few minutes.”

Jamie frowned. “Fascinating...”

Claire rolled her eyes. During their years of separation, Jamie had owned a printing house in Edinburgh. Of course, he was interested in the technology... So interested that he hadn’t even noticed his daughter had gone deathly pale. “Brianna? What is it?”, her mother asked.

But the young woman did not answer. Her corset was suddenly killing her and she brought a hand to her chest, as if trying to keep herself from hyperventilating. Without a word, she handed the document to her mother and Jamie helped her sit on the sofa before standing behind Claire to read over her shoulder. It was a short article, published in the Wilmington Gazette on December 26th, 1770. Less than three weeks later.

_Stephen Bonnet and the Red witch shot dead while attempting to escape._

_On December 23 rd, as he was about to hang by the neck until dead, Captain Stephen Bonnet, already known to the authorities for his smuggling activities and other crimes, escaped the gallows with the help of his partner, Miss Brianna Fraser, better-known as the Red Witch. Taking advantage of a crowd protesting against the execution of another prisoner, the couple fled through the streets of Wilmington to the harbor where a ship awaited them. They never reached it, however, and perished a few yards from the docks, under the bullets of the North Carolina guard. Miss Fraser's body was handed over to her family and will be buried on their land. Governor Tryon has however refused to reveal the location of Captain Bonnet's grave, so as not to encourage other pirates to make it a place of pilgrimage._

“The Red Witch…?”, Jamie snarled, raising angry and questioning eyes towards his daughter. “And Stephen _Bonnet_ …?”

When Claire had talked to Jamie about her daughter’s romantic love affair with a sailor, she had intentionally not mentioned his last name. Bonnet was not an unknown danger in the Thirteen Colonies, and his reputation preceded him. She glanced at Brianna, who still seemed paralyzed by the news, and put her hand on Jamie's arm.

“Could we focus on the real problem…?”

"Ye mean the fact that my daughter fell in love with an outlaw who is gonnae get her killed?” Jamie was doing his best not to yell and Claire grabbed him by the shoulders.

“I meant to find a way out of this tragedy!”

“Oh, there is a very simple way out: Brianna will stay in her room until December 24th...”

Claire narrowed her furious eyes. “Do I have to remind you that you were also an outlaw when I met you? Did my feelings for you deserve to be judged as you are judging your daughter's today?”

“I never put yer life in danger, _sassenach_!”

Claire's mouth opened wide, as if it was the most blatant lie she had ever heard in her life. Although he had never knowingly endangered her, danger had often caught up with them and she had thrown herself into the lion’s den several times to save the man she loved. Behind them, Brianna had risen from the sofa, staggering slightly and Roger gestured towards her. He seemed sorry for the turn of events, but he just couldn’t ask Jamie Fraser to wait outside his own family’s living room so he could speak to his wife and daughter.

“Brianna?”

But the young woman did not answer. When she moved again, it was to run – still barefoot, as she had left her shoes in the grass – and swing the door open. She then disappeared into the entrance hall and out of the house.

“I'll go check on her…”, Roger offered before Jamie could make a move. Claire gave him a grateful smile and waited until the young man had left the living room to pursue their heated argument.

Brianna was running a lot faster than he thought she could, especially with her heavy dress getting in the way. He only managed to catch up with her when she stopped on the wooden pontoon overlooking the river near the plantation. He saw her bend over in half, then straighten up, clench her fists… and scream her lungs out in despair, sobbing loudly. Roger slowly approached, reaching out, but before he could touch her, he heard her whisper.

“You should have let me stay... why... why the _fuck_ did you leave me here...”

Another heartbreaking whimper rose in the cold December air, as Brianna's back twitched more and more violently.

“Brianna…”

The young woman turned abruptly, her eyes full of tears. “Is that what you came for?”, she barked. “You found out that I had replaced you and you couldn't take it, huh?”

Roger raised his eyebrows. He hadn't expected such an unprovoked attack, but she was obviously in shock. His own behavior during their last quarrel had certainly something to do with it, but there was something else. “Ye're wrong…”

“If you've come here to bring me back in our time, Roger, you-”

“I have no intention of forcing ye to do anything!”, he exclaimed, shaking her shoulders. “Yes, I was devastated when I found that article! Yes, I was angry ye left without telling me! ...And jealous too. Of that… Stephen Bonnet.” He pursed his lips and took a deep breath. "But then I realized one thing. Whether ye still want me or not, it didn’t matter… I just couldnae let ye die.”

Brianna's lower lip quivered and her unreasonable anger subsided. She needed to vent on someone and Roger was there. Roger who had come all this way to save her life and was now loaded with reproaches. New tears rolled down her cheeks and she buried her face in her hands, letting Roger pull her against him.

“Then you understand I can't let him die either…”, she cried, haunted by the grim image of Stephen swinging on the end of a rope, crows ruthlessly preying on his eyeballs. Or laying on the pavement, his body riddled with bullets.

“I do. And I'm here to help... if ye want me to.”

Brianna pulled away from him, and eyed him suspiciously. She hadn't forgotten his horrible words when she had turned down his marriage proposal. Roger was twenty-eight, had a faculty position and already had a few girlfriends, but she was only twenty-one years old when he had proposed to her and still a student. Turning him down had made complete sense to her, but he had lost his temper and called her a slut. Among other things.

“You’re not… doing this hoping to win me back, right? Because I did not forget the things you said to me when-”

“I came here knowing I would probably have to save the man ye love… and go back home alone after that.” Roger shook his head and ran a hand through his messy black hair. “I would be a filthy bastard if I let ye both die just because ye didn't want to marry me.”

Brianna frowned for a moment, before a smirk crept onto her wet lips. “You've changed…”

Roger laughed softly. “Let's just say I had… time to think about my attitude.”

The young woman's smile widened a bit more and she rubbed her sleeve over her face. “Silly me…”, she snorted with a hint of exasperation. “Crying and screaming instead of thinking of a solution...”

“I guess reading yer own obituary has that effect on people...”, Roger reassured her, but Brianna suddenly seemed to realize something. “What?”

“No, it's just… I didn't even think about myself… I was so obsessed with Stephen's death that I forgot I was supposed to die too…”

“Ye love him that much, huh?”

“I suppose I do…” She lowered her nose, her fingers twisting nervously around the fabric of her dress. “But I don't know if he does...”

“What do ye mean?”, Roger asked, wrinkling his nose. Brianna took a deep breath and let her dress go. One of her hands fell down her side and the other went up to the emerald clover around her neck.

“He is... sometimes impenetrable and... contradictory...”

“And Irish?”

Brianna stared at Roger in astonishment. “How do you know that?”, she asked, before she realized he had guessed thanks to her unconscious gesture. “Oh.”

“I am officially out of competition, then. Bloody Irishmen and their irresistible charm…”, Roger muttered humorously. “Must be the accent...”

She let out a nervous giggle, almost relieved to be able to laugh in a moment like this. But Roger’s face went straight again and he pursed his lips.

“I'm sorry for the mess I’ve made between ye and yer father... I wish Claire had come alone...”

“I would have had to tell him one day or another...”, Brianna reassured him, but her expression darkened. “He's a good man, but... he has principles...”

“From another age...?”, Roger finished for her and the look she gave him spoke volumes. “It's a bit normal, isn't it?”

“Yeah, I guess…” She smiled and crossed her arms on her chest. “Although I don't know a lot of dads who would love to see their daughter hook up with a pirate. Except for Frank, of course…”, she joked with a loving thought for her adoptive father.

“He would have been over the moon”, Roger laughed. He had often heard about her late father's love for treasures and pirate tales. “By the way, if I may ask... The Red Witch? Really?”

Brianna opened her mouth wide, that incredible detail coming back to her now. “I have no idea where that comes from! Wait, no, I definitely do... but I didn’t know people called me that?!”

“Okay, now ye have to tell me the whole story…”, Roger added with a delighted smile.

“Sure, how much time do you have?”

~o~

The next morning, Brianna and Roger had apologized to Jocasta and left the plantation on horseback to reach Wilmington as quickly as possible. Jamie had protested and yelled that he wouldn't let her risk her own life for a worthless pirate, but Brianna had been inflexible and Claire had promised to bring him to his senses. Then, she had made Roger swear to watch over her daughter until Jamie and her joined them in Wilmington. As soon as possible, she hoped. Stubborn as he was, Jamie had disappeared to calm down, hoping Brianna would delay her departure if she could not say goodbye to him properly, but the young woman had not yielded to emotional blackmail. She might have done it for Frank but not for a man she had only met a few weeks ago, should he be her biological father. Besides, she knew for a fact that Claire would change his mind and they would be joining them in town in no time.

Her mother would know how to find the right words. Words Brianna was unable to pronounce; she was too upset about the news of Stephen's death sentence. What had happened? She had expected MacNamara to give him a hard time, but not the authorities… Countless questions filled her head and despite the eight-hours journey and Roger's attempts to take her mind off things, she hadn’t been able to clear this up before they arrived in Wilmington in the evening.

As she didn’t want to be a burden to Marsali and Fergus, they had taken two rooms at the Willow Tree Tavern, near the harbor, and had come out immediately at sunset to find the _Gloriana_. But the galleon was nowhere to be found. After a frugal meal, marked by Brianna's heavy silence, they went to bed hoping to get more information about the pirate's whereabouts on the following day.

Brianna had only left Wilmington ten days ago, but being back was quite reassuring. Nothing had changed, the world had not collapsed, people were going about their business as usual, and that eased the young woman's anxiety.

“Where do we start? The prison?”, Roger asked, as they left the tavern to mingle with the crowd.

Brianna nodded and readjusted the cap that covered her red hair. That was probably what had led to her nickname. The rest of her features would not be a problem. She was still anonymous in this century, identity papers and photographs would definitely not betray her. After a ten minutes’ walk, they stopped a few yards from the city jail, and Brianna shuddered at the sight of the two soldiers guarding the entrance.

“I don't think we can actually walk towards them and ask if they're detaining Stephen Bonnet… That would arouse suspicions, right? Since I'm obviously wanted too…”, she said, wincing.

Roger shrugged. “I could tell them I’m a tavern-keeper and say I'm looking for him because that scoundrel owes me two nights’ rent...”

“Good idea…”, Brianna smirked. “Who’d have thought? Roger Wakefield MacKenzie lying to the authorities…”

“Yer Irish lad isn’t the only rebel in town, baby...”

Brianna rolled her eyes as if to let him know that he was a lamb compared to Stephen, and chuckled. However, her laughter died in her throat when her eyes fell over a series of posters plastered on one of the prison walls. Two familiar faces stood there, in old-fashioned engravings, above press-printed paragraphs. One was Murtagh Fitzgibbons, easily recognizable with his bushy beard and eyebrows, as well as his long white hair. A fifty pounds reward was promised to anyone who caught him and handed him over to the authorities. And the other one… was Stephen. Her heart skipped a beat and she slowly walked towards the posters, under the guards’ inquisitive eyes.

Smuggling, piracy, plundering, murder, arms trafficking... The list of all charges was much longer than Jamie's godfather’s, and the reward was much generous too. She brought a hand to her lips so no one could see that they were trembling. Roger joined her, throwing embarrassed looks around him. He was pulling her gently by the arm when one of the guards called them from afar.

“Is there something wrong, ma'am?”, the soldier said, turning towards them. He was staring at Brianna insistently and Roger shook his head.

“My wife is just in shock… We provided board and lodging to this Mr. Bonnet in our tavern some time ago… The thief owes us two nights, by the way, and… he made a terrible impression, didn't he, darling?” Roger turned to Brianna, discreetly pinching her arm to get her to play along. The young woman blinked and nodded silently.

“In that case, you can sleep soundly, ma’am…”, the guard reassured her. “Captain Stephen Bonnet was arrested and incarcerated awaiting his execution on December 23rd, just before Christmas so that he won’t benefit from general pardon. Whatever he did to you, if you think watching him die will bring you any relief, you are free to attend.”

“Where will it take place?”, Roger asked.

“On the main square, as usual.”

Roger thanked him with a nod and immediately led Brianna out of his sight, towards the harbor. “Good, at least we know wh-”

“I can’t do this!”, the young woman whined, shaking her head. “I couldn’t even stand the sight of this _fucking_ notice, I… I…” She took several quick breaths and Roger understood she was having a panic attack. “If I can't even keep a cool head in front of a piece of paper, what will happen when we try to set him free?” Her eyes widened, as if she suddenly realized something. “That's why... That's why we get killed! I'm definitely going to panic and screw it up and we're gonna die, and it will be my fault and-”

Roger grabbed her by the shoulders and brought her face to his own. “Brianna!”, he barked. “ _No one_ is going to die. We have an advantage: we already know what will happen on that day. We can change the course of events, but to do that we have to stay calm and think.”

Brianna stood silent for a moment, then nodded nervously, several times, as if every movement helped convince herself a little more. “But I don't understand… If he's here, where's the ship? The crew? They would never abandon him... It makes no _fucking_ sense, _God dammit_!”, she added, almost hysterical.

Roger sighed and gently squeezed Brianna's left arm. “Look… we're going back to the harbor, we’ll check once again that the _Gloriana_ isn't there, ask around… and then we’ll go to Jamie's son, uh…”

“Fergus”, Brianna completed in a low voice.

“Fergus. Maybe yer parents are already there!” He added an encouraging smile to his words, but she didn’t smile back. They walked back to the harbor in silence. Brianna didn't make a sound and Roger concluded that she was still torturing herself. Her hands shaking, she was unsuccessfully trying to put a red curl back under her cap, until she lost patience and pulled hardly on the fabric to release her hair.

“Bree…”, Roger sighed, ready to scold her once again.

“Miss Brianna???”

The young woman looked up so quickly that she felt the bones in her neck crack in protest. Only one person in the world called her _that_ with _that_ specific voice and her eyes began to scan the surroundings at full speed, searching for strawberry blonde hair and a freckled face. But she didn't have to look for very long; the teenager appeared out of nowhere and threw himself at her, hugging her to the point of suffocation.

Brianna's arms closed instantly over Jimmy's blonde head, her chin resting on top of it, and she felt like she was genuinely smiling for the first time in ages. There was cause for hope again. The cabin boy’s presence meant a lot: the crew had not abandoned Stephen, she would not have to plan his escape on her own, and together they would find a solution. She was about to close her eyes and let herself get carried away by relief, when the young boy broke apart and began to speak at full speed.

“The captain is missing! We delivered a cargo a bit further south and the new sailors said he chose to go with the Regulators in Wilmington, it was very weird, so we looked everywhere for him, we went back to Ocracoke because that's where we must meet if we're separated, we waited but he never came, and then Mr. O'Brien decided to leave some of the guys there just in case he would return and we went back to look for him all over the coastlines of Carolina, down to Charleston since we were there just before, but we did not find him and then, we arrived this morning in Wilmington and we saw his face on wanted notices, and-”

“He’s here, in Wilmington!”, she almost yelled to put an end to his verbal diarrhea – and it worked, much to Brianna and Roger’s relief. “In jail. New sailors, you said?”

“In jail?”, Jimmy repeated, his eyes wide. “I have to tell… Ah! Here he is!”

“So you _have_ been waiting here all this time?”, a mocking voice said behind her back. “He knew you would…”

Brianna smiled before she even turned around, recognizing the first mate’s ironic drawl. “Believe it or not, Mr. O’Brien, I haven’t spent the last two months moping around on the docks.”

“I’m sure that’s a lie…”, the young man chuckled, raising a hand to his hat as a greeting. But Jimmy didn't give them time to enjoy their reunion any longer.

“The captain has been arrested, he's in jail!”, the young boy exclaimed.

Brianna nodded. “And sentenced to death. On December 23rd. I came as soon as I knew…”

“Really?” O'Brien frowned. The news surprised him more than it upset him. “Usually, when he gets caught, everyone talks about it, the soldiers, the gazette… Why didn’t they brag about it?”

“What do you mean, ‘usually’?”, Roger asked, speaking for the first time. Both sailors turned to him, as if they had just noticed his presence.

“Who is that?”, Jimmy muttered, with an unfriendly pout.

“Oh, uh, that's Roger… a friend…”, Brianna stammered uncomfortably. And to dispel any doubts, she added hastily: “I trust him, he’s helping me.”

“A _friend_?” An indescribable smirk crept on O’Brien’s lips and Brianna remembered that day in Philadelphia when she had talked to him about turning a marriage proposal down. She narrowed her eyes threateningly, and O’Brien immediately took up the conversation. “I said ‘usually’ because it's not the first time he’s captured by the red coats. But he always slips through their fingers one way or another. Our job is to wait at the nearest harbor and be ready to set sail.”

“We have to tell the others to bring the ship back from Ocracoke, then. Because if he runs away, he'll be looking for us here…”, Jimmy added, as O’Brien nodded.

At that moment, Brianna and Roger unanimously roared “NO!”, causing the Irish boys to jump and all passers-by to turn towards them. The sailors’ puzzled looks were almost comical and Brianna sighed.

“We should probably talk about this in a more private place. If I give you an address, can you meet me there tomorrow night after dark?”

Jimmy and O’Brien silently nodded. A day and a half would not be too much to prepare a believable story without risking to reveal her secret. All she had to do now was to beg Marsali and Fergus to let them use their house for the meeting...

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**What did you think of this chapter ?? Roger and his shocking announcement, his behavior too and the maturity he showed by coming to save Brianna despite his jealousy (that’s quite a change from the Roger we know in the books/show, haha). I also know that you are delighted to have the crew back, because you have been asking a lot about them since Brianna left the ship, haha. Anyway, I can't wait to read your reactions to this chapter and until next Monday, I wish you a great week!**

**Xérès**


	22. Gradh Geal Mo Chridh

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Operation “Free Steevie” is round the corner, but for now let's see how everyone is getting prepared... As for Stephen, he might have a little surprise in his prison cell! I hope you’ll enjoy this chapter!**

**Thanks all of you who read, commented and kudozed the previous chapter!**

oOo

  1. _Gradh Geal Mo Chridh_ (Fair Love Of My Heart)



“Can we at least know where we're going?”, Boyle hissed, looking around suspiciously.

A few minutes earlier, shortly after dark, O’Brien had gathered part of the small group sent to Wilmington to look for their captain and asked them to follow him without any explanation. “Asked” was actually a strong word: summoned would have been more accurate. Each of them had received a visit from O’Brien in their room at the tavern, and was ordered to meet at a given place and time. When Boyle had arrived, he had found Murphy, Doherty, the boatswain O’Donnell, Jimmy and the first mate. The other sailors who had followed them in Wilmington were the _new ones_ who had joined them after their last stop in Philadelphia. Boyle didn't particularly like them, although he had no personal quarrel with them. But obviously O’Brien didn’t want to involve them in tonight’s business, whatever it was. Jimmy and the first mate had been acting weird since the previous night, as if they had some important information – a secret even – that they hadn't bothered to share. And now they were walking into dark alleys, far removed from the hustle and bustle of the harbor and its taverns.

“You'll find out soon enough”, O’Brien retorted in a low voice. The sound of boots in a nearby street made them quicken their pace and they swiftly disappeared around the next block.

“Believe me, you won't be disappointed…”, Jimmy added with an enigmatic smile.

Murphy turned his head towards the cabin boy. “Did you find the captain?”

O’Brien stopped outside the door of a small townhouse and smirked as he knocked. “Not exactly…”

The door opened onto a corridor, that was even darker than the streets they had just left. O’Brien and Jimmy rushed inside without any hesitation, and the others followed. The door closed behind Boyle, who jumped at the sound and someone let out a brief laugh in the dark. A candlelight then illuminated the other end of the corridor, revealing the suspicious face of a small blonde woman and the shape of a man with long, curly brown hair. Presumably the one who had opened and closed the door.

“Over here…”, the blonde muttered, motioning for them to follow her. Truth be told, Marsali hadn't batted an eyelid when she had heard of Brianna’s lover’s true identity. And she had no beef with the crew either, especially since Brianna had sworn up and down that they were good men. Smugglers, of course, but not monsters. However, they had to know who they were dealing with: if one of them dared to be rude under her roof, she would come down on him with her claws out. Her little show seemed to take effect as the youngest of the group met her stern gaze and cowered slightly. _Perfect_ …

One after another, the sailors followed their host into the kitchen, passing by several strangers staring at them insistently. Standing by the fire was a couple in their fifties and they looked as severe as the young blonde. The woman was thin and tall with long and curly black hair, barely tinged with gray. Her husband, a redhead with blue eyes, as massive and solid as a rock, stared at them with obvious contempt. O’Brien was sure they were Brianna's parents. The resemblance was too striking. Beside the granite sink was a man they easily identified as Murtagh Fitzgibbons, Head of the Regulators, having seen his portrait on wanted notices. Sitting at the table, a dark-haired man who must have been in his thirties waited patiently with his hands folded in front of him, as if there was nothing weird about this strange meeting. And finally, standing behind a chair at the end of the table...

“Miss Fraser?”, Murphy exclaimed.

Doherty, O’Donnell and Boyle looked up at once, and the young woman smiled widely. Boyle was the first to come out of his shock to rush over to her.

“I can't believe you left without saying goodbye to me…”, he muttered, hugging her in a very inappropriate way. Brianna chuckled as Boyle pulled back and smirked before referring to their last encounter, when he had found her half-naked, arguing with Stephen. “I can see you are fully dressed, this time.”

“And _I_ can see that the captain allowed you to keep both of your eyes, Mr. Boyle... He’s mellowed out, that's for sure”, the young woman retorted. At the table, Roger frowned but chose not to ask what they were talking about.

“Glad to see you are doing well, Miss Fraser”, said Doherty with a warm smile as Jimmy took Boyle’s place into her arms. O’Donnell nodded respectfully and Murphy smiled. The old carpenter then turned his head to the others in the room, feeling uneasy.

The Regulator stared at him for a while, narrowing his eyelids, then turned to the tall fellow and his wife. “Dinnae ye think this one looks like good old Dougal MacKenzie?", he mocked with a heavy Scottish accent.

Jamie Fraser's blue eyes scanned Murphy from head to toe, then chuckled softly. The old Irishman actually had a lot in common with his uncle, who had died twenty years earlier at the Battle of Culloden. Including his gruff look, his baldness and his thick beard. “ _Aye_ , you're reit... But I dinnae ken if that’s a good thing...”

Murtagh laughed again and Marsali motioned for the newcomers to sit around the table. Jimmy grabbed a small stool, put it next to Brianna and sat down, grinning like a madman. The young woman smiled back and placed herself behind him, resting her hands on the teenager's shoulders. She had missed her young soul brother more than she was willing to admit, and the feeling was obviously mutual. After making introductions, she caught the carpenter's impatient gaze and let out a long sigh.

“Stephen is in Wilmington Prison, he has been sentenced to death and we are going to get him out.”

Except for Jimmy and O’Brien, all the other sailors looked at her in bewilderment.

“Sentenced to death? But no one knew about-... Well, usually they-...!”, Doherty stammered.

“That's what we thought too”, O’Brien muttered, pulling a cigar from his inner pocket. He was about to light it with a candlestick on the table, when the cigar disappeared from his fingers, taken away by Marsali who certainly did not want him to fill her children’s air with smoke. The first mate gave her a surprised look, before a charmed smile appeared on his lips and never left them until the young woman disappeared from his sight again. “When he disappeared, I had a doubt. I thought MacNamara’s sailors had stranded him to take control of the _Gloriana_ … But they said that the captain had simply left with the Regulators after the transaction and they never attempted any mutiny against me. My priority is to protect the ship and the crew, when the captain’s gone, so I chose to act normally until I found out what had actually happened.”

“MacNamara probably asked them to hand Stephen over to the red coats and collect the reward... And also to watch you closely in case I reappeared”, Brianna muttered darkly, a shiver running down her spine at the mere mention of the receiver.

“I guess so... As much as he would shout from the rooftops that you were dead, I'm not sure anyone really believed him...”, Murphy grumbled, shaking his head.

“The girls seemed to buy it...”, Boyle blurted out before he froze, under the murderous eyes of his comrades. But it was too late, Brianna had frowned.

“The girls? What girls?”

O’Brien slowly shook his head, glaring at Boyle. Doherty slapped the unfortunate sailor on the back of the head, and Jimmy twisted his neck to look up in panic at Brianna.

“I swear to God, Miss, he never tried to replace you, he was just spreading rumors for your safety. He knew he was being watched… But deep down, he was miserable. I swear!”

He pretended to spit a bit of saliva into his hand, as was the custom, but it was without counting on Marsali. “If a single drop comes out of yer mouth, lad, I'll have ye scrub the whole kitchen clean...”

Jimmy swallowed and immediately muttered: “Sorry, ma'am” while O’Brien seemed more and more seduced by the blonde's fiery temper. It must have been a little too obvious, for Fergus immediately came to stand next to his wife and put a possessive arm around her. O’Brien winced and went back to the conversation. Brianna’s heart had sunk at the mention of the girls but she did her best not to show it. Out of the corner of her eye, she had seen her parents exchange a knowing look, betraying their feelings about pirates, their dissolute morals and the pain that said morals could cause to their daughter. Brianna would have hated to prove them right by acting jealous in front of them. After all, Stephen had said his goodbyes to her and told her not to wait. She couldn't blame him for trying to move on.

And even knowing that, she wouldn't give up on saving his life. Just as Roger had traveled through time to warn her, aware that she might be in love with someone else, she would not let Stephen die just because he presumably had sex with a few harlots. It would have been selfish and cruel.

“Brianna called this gatherin’ for we have a proposal tae make...”, Murtagh said, standing next to her. “Other men will be executed on January 20th, guid Scots fightin’ against the tyranny o’ the Crown...”

O’Brien narrowed his eyes. “Men of yours, I suppose?”, he asked with a hint of irony.

“ _Aye_ , men o’ mine…”, Murtagh confirmed in the same tone.

“We plan to wreak havoc in the city, so that the governor's guard would be too busy restoring order to go after the prisoners...”, Brianna said, as Boyle burst into laughter.

“I'm in!”, he chuckled. “You had me at ‘havoc’.”

“I take it you already have a plan?”, O'Brien said, looking at Brianna. She nodded. As if he'd been waiting for her signal, Murtagh grabbed a map from one of the kitchen cabinets and unrolled it on the table. The entire coastline of North and South Carolinas was depicted there and he leaned over it, talking directly to the first mate.

“The Regulators will create a diversion shortly before the execution. Ye dinnae need to ken how: all ye have tae do is bring yer ship here.” He pointed to Cheraw, a town along the Pee Dee River, in South Carolina. O'Brien frowned, but didn't have time to ask why. “The red coats will expect Bonnet tae escape by sea. But we will send him further inland for a few days. By then, the dust will have settled on the northern coasts and ye’ll be able tae go down the river to Georgetown Bay. South Carolina isnae under Laird Tryon’s jurisdiction, he willnae be able tae send his men there without the other governor’s approval… And word is both men dinnae really get along, if ye ken what I mean.”

“Those new sailors you mentioned yesterday... MacNamara’s men”, Brianna said to O’Brien, who was still staring at the map with an undefinable expression. “You'll have to get rid of them. Before the ship leaves Ocracoke.”

“Get rid of them?”, her mother repeated, speaking for the very first time. Brianna sighed without looking at her. She was well aware of what she had just said, and the thought of hurting strangers was revolting. But she knew from experience that no tactical error was possible against Charles MacNamara. She still shuddered at the memory of their encounter in that empty alleyway.

“I’m not necessarily saying that they should _kill_ them...”, she retorted. But deep down, she knew perfectly well what the other sailors would do to them now their responsibility in Bonnet’s capture had been established. As if to confirm her thoughts, O’Brien briefly raised his eyebrows and scoffed. “But the _Gloriana_ has to reach Cheraw without anyone knowing. Anyone but us.”

Silence fell in the room and all eyes turned to O’Brien, waiting for any sign of approval. A minute passed before he finally shook his head.

“I don't think that's a good idea... If the captain manages to escape before his execution, he will go to the harbor first, and if we are not there, he will go to Ocracoke. If I moor the _Gloriana_ anywhere else, I would be disobeying a direct order...”

“MacNamara’s men know about Ocracoke now, they probably already sent a message to Philadelphia or the red coats about it. It’s not safe to leave the ship there…”, Roger said calmly, catching the Irishman’s glare at once.

“Thanks for the advice, Mr. MacKenny, I hadn’t thought of that...”

“It’s MacKenzie.”

O’Brien ignored him and went on: “I'll moor the _Gloriana_ in Wilmington’s harbor, that way he'll be sure to find us there…”

"No, I do not want the _Gloriana_ anywhere near Wilmington”, Brianna blurted out sternly.

O’Brien’s face darkened, and his usually placid mood disappeared to give way to anger. “Why? If I may ask?”

Brianna pursed her lips and looked down. She couldn't tell him the truth and opted for a vague reply: “It’s too risky, that’s all.”

“It is less risky and it will be faster than your detour across South Carolina...”, O’Brien replied, narrowing his eyes.

“And yet you will make this detour…”, Brianna's tone was raising in turn and the Irishman jumped on his feet, banging his fists on the table, which startled Jimmy and Doherty.

“I have obligations, Miss Fraser!”, he barked, glaring at her. Immediately, Jamie stiffened by the fireplace, ready to jump down the throat of anyone threatening his daughter. She had begged him not to step in, assuring that everything would go better if she managed the discussion alone, but there were limits to what he could bear. However, Brianna didn't bat an eyelid and kept staring at O’Brien, who went on: “Unlike you, not everyone has the luxury of questioning the captain's orders... If I had a tenth of your impertinence, I would have lost my position a long time ago.”

“This is not about questioning his orders, this is about using common sense, God dammit! There is a whole army offering its help and you just won’t listen!”, she barked. “I need you to trust me… to trust _us_!”

Brianna stretched out her arms towards her family, but O’Brien didn’t seem moved in the least by her little speech.

“The captain trusted you, too, and look where it got him. Not to mention the brave men who lost their lives on the way…”

Boyle’s eyes widened at the first mate’s last words but he said nothing. Beside him, Doherty shifted in his chair, looking uncomfortable. The sentence had felt like a slap in her face: although Brianna had tried to hush up her guilt, it had never really faded away.

“Miss Brianna is not responsible for the storms or the flu... not even the snake that killed Mr. Flaherty!”, Jimmy exclaimed, before turning to Murphy who had remained silent throughout the heated exchange between the first mate and the young woman. “Mr. Murphy, please tell him!”

But the old man frowned and simply crossed his fingers on the table in front of him.

Brianna took a deep breath and placed a soothing hand on the teenager's shoulder. “Thanks, Jimmy, but I know Mr. Murphy's opinion on the troubles brought by the presence of females at sea…” The carpenter smirked briefly but didn't answer and she turned to O'Brien again, struggling to keep calm. “I know I’m asking a lot from you, but I wouldn't insist if I wasn't absolutely sure that you need to change the way you do things and disobey him. Just this once.”

“In that case, you won’t mind getting whipped instead of me? Just this once”, O’Brien mocked, pushing his chair back.

Brianna rolled her eyes and sighed loudly as he left the room. “Stephen will not whip you…!” But the Irishman was gone and they heard a door slam shut. A heavy silence fell in the kitchen and Brianna felt her lower jaw drop. How could the situation escalate so quickly? Yes, she had expected resistance from the first mate: his unwavering loyalty wouldn't make it easy for them. But this?

Boyle stood up with an apologetic look and mumbled something before running after him.

“I’m not asking for the moon, am I...?”, Brianna groaned, sinking into a chair next to Jimmy.

“I was there... when Mr. O’Brien joined the crew as a sailor.”

Brianna turned to Murphy, who was saying his first words since the beginning of the argument. His wrinkled face was serious, but there was also that hint of kindness and compassion he only had for Stephen, when no one else was looking.

“He was only eighteen and the girl he loved had been forcibly married to an older and richer man. He wanted to leave the land at all costs, but no captain wanted him because he drank a lot to drown his sorrow and fought with anyone who crossed his path.” The old man was briefly interrupted by Marsali who had pulled out a bottle of whiskey and glasses, as if everyone needed something strong to drink. “The captain recruited him on one condition: that he would not have a single drop of whiskey until further notice... Arguments and fights are prohibited at sea... Thank you, ma'am”, he added as Marsali placed a full glass in front of him. The blonde nodded briefly and continued to hand out glasses.

“After three or four days, O'Brien disobeys: he sits down to play cards with other sailors, drinks like a fish, punches another man in the face… and collapses on the deck, as drunk as a lord. The captain let him sleep it off... and sentenced him to ten lashes.”

Jamie, who was listening intently to the old man, unconsciously moved a shoulder as if his old scars itched. Claire took his hand in hers, without a word, and Murphy went on:

“O’Brien accepted the sentence without flinching. The code recommends forty lashes for this kind of crime, so he was already happy to have only ten. After that, he didn't have a single drink for months and sought to become the best sailor a captain could dream of. And Captain Bonnet rewarded him as often as he could. Within three years, he became first mate, a position he has held ever since. And he's never disobeyed again in the seven years I've known him.”

Murphy grabbed his glass of whiskey to take a sip and Doherty took over. “It might sound crazy for landlubbers like you... But the captain gave him a purpose, responsibilities, discipline. And questioning that discipline…”

“Means questioning the man he's become…”, Brianna finished, letting her head fall back on her palms. Doherty nodded silently and they all looked at each other without a word for a few seconds.

“Is there really a code?”, Fergus suddenly asked. “I thought pirates were just doing… whatever they wanted to do.”

“Just because we don't obey _your_ rules doesn't mean we don't have our own...”, said O’Brien's voice from the kitchen entrance. Everyone jumped, and Brianna looked up anxiously at him.

“Well, that’s a relief…”, Murtagh quipped, glancing briefly at Jamie.

“I'm sorry…”, Brianna whispered as O’Brien slowly sat down, soon imitated by Boyle. “I did not know…”

“That's what you do every time, right?” O’Brien raised an eyebrow. The irony was back, the anger was gone and Brianna allowed herself to breathe. “You step into people's lives, and turn everything upside down without thinking about the consequences... But sometimes being sorry is not enough.”

Brianna swallowed. She knew very well, by the mischievous gleam in the first mate’s eyes, what he was referring to. He was talking about that night, when the sailors had fought for her in Philadelphia, suffering a few broken noses and split lips. After that, she had apologized for her behavior, and Bonnet had given her a similar speech... And of course, there was the incident with the slaves in Sint-Eustatius… Brianna blushed, a bit stung by the allusion.

“Maybe I found a way... not to disobey...”, O’Brien said. At that moment, Marsali placed a glass of clear water in front of him (not whiskey like the others) and he let out a chuckle, to which she responded with an almost imperceptible smile.

“What do you mean?”, Brianna inquired.

“Making you acting captain. That way, _you_ will be responsible and not me...”

“Are you out of your mind, Mr. O’Brien?”, Murphy barked as the first mate turned a perfectly stoic face towards him. “A _female_ captain?”

“ _Acting_ captain”, Boyle added, raising his glass to empty it. “Until the real captain comes back.”

The carpenter shook his head. “You can't decide like that, there has to be a vote!”

“All in favor of promoting Miss Brianna Fraser to acting captain raise their hand...”, O’Brien crooned, raising his right hand at once. He was immediately imitated by Doherty, Jimmy and Boyle, whose smiles were bigger than ever. The first mate turned his head to O’Donnell, who sighed loudly and raised his hand as well.

“ _All_ the crew members must vote!”, Murphy ranted before turning sharply to Brianna, who was timidly raising her right hand. “You don't get to vote!” The redhead immediately lowered her arm, rolling her eyes.

“The others do not need to know. I will still be the one giving orders aboard, nothing will change for them...”, O’Brien said, his hand still raised. “It's just an arrangement between us.”

“If the captain finds out...”

“We will explain the situation.” O’Brien raised a suggestive eyebrow at Brianna. “And if he has anything to say about it, _her_ punishment will certainly be much more enjoyable than mine.”

By the fireplace, Jamie choked loudly and Brianna slumped into her seat, not daring to look at her father's expression at that moment. If he still had doubts about her committing the sins of the flesh with Stephen Bonnet, the first mate had just dispelled them. A quick glance towards Roger, and she noticed that O’Brien’s words had also come as a blow to him. For a few seconds, no one moved, except for O’Brien’s eyes which went back on Mr. Murphy.

“Hurry up, I'm getting cramps…”, Boyle scoffed, resting his chin in his other hand.

The carpenter gave him a nasty look, before his eyes went to Brianna, then back to O'Brien. “You're all completely insane”, he grumbled, finally raising his hand.

~o~

Stephen Bonnet could not tell how long it had been since his transfer from his dark dungeon somewhere in the bowels of Wilmington to the city jail. He had entered his new cell in such a state of exhaustion that he had slept for days. Every square inch of his body hurt, and he had already caught guards in his cell making sure he was still alive. But every time, to their great surprise, he stirred, groaned, breathed. Life never seemed to drain out of his body. Day after day, he regained his strength from the meager meals he was given, the pain subsided, the wounds healed. He didn't understand why they insisted on keeping him alive. What was the use of feeding him, hydrating him, if it was to put a rope round his neck before the end of the month?

Even so, a few days before the execution, he was feeling up again and a guard came twice a day to help him get up and take a few steps. He hadn't understood the point of the exercise until this very morning: they were making sure he was able to walk to the scaffold. No more, no less.

His cell was twice the size of the dark closet in which Tryon had illegally held and tortured him. It had a small opening facing south, through which he could make out the daily course of the sun, and a moldy heap of straw that he used as a makeshift mattress. The height of luxury.

The guards hadn't even tied him to the heavy iron rings that hung along one of the walls. He was so weak until then that they probably thought the precaution was unnecessary. He was therefore surprised when a soldier entered to lock the heavy handcuffs and chains around his wrists. “Does the name Fraser mean anything to you?”, the guard asked.

Stephen looked up at him, suspiciously. “Maybe… Maybe not...”

But his interlocutor was not here to question him and he shrugged. “You have a visitor...”

This time, the pirate couldn't hide his interest. Fortunately, he was no longer in the governor's dungeons and his jailers here didn't give a damn about his associates. The guard left the cell door open and walked up the hallway that led to the outside world. Had Brianna found out about his arrest? Had she come to see him, taking the risk of being recognized by one of Tryon’s minions? His eyes began searching the darkness apprehensively. Part of him prayed that she wouldn't throw herself into the lion’s den, while another just wanted to see her appear through the bars.

Heavy footsteps – a man's gait – echoed in the hallway and he frowned. His visitor did have red curly hair, and eyes as blue as the Caribbean Sea, but he was definitely not his sweet treasure huntress. The man who had just entered his cell was huge, more than six feet tall, very muscular, and he had a jawline so sharp it could cut diamonds. Stephen was not exactly small, not even an average man: the years spent at sea had endowed him with bulging muscles and he was also taller than most. But next to this giant, and as emaciated as he was now, he looked like a Lilliputian.

There was another problem: his visitor’s eyes were shooting daggers at him. Anger. And disdain too. The pirate straightened up, lifting his chin in a ridiculous attempt to appear less puny and tired, but that made absolutely no difference. Apart from keeping up appearances.

“D’ye ken who I am… ?”, the man scolded, analyzing Stephen from head to toe. The Irishman saw the blue eyes linger for a moment on his black fingernails, half-lifted and crusted with dried blood, and he hid them slightly inside his palms. Out of sight. The newcomer’s eyes went back to the pirate’s face and saw he was looking at something behind him, in a corner of the cell. Jamie turned around briefly, but saw nothing. Absolutely nothing.

 _What do you think, darlin’? Definitely a Fraser, that one… Red hair, blue eyes… and the face of someone who thinks I dishonored his precious daughter… Um, let's see_ …

Stephen shrugged, grinning widely. “You’re her father.”

“Ye’re very astute.”

“That is indeed one of my many qualities…”, Stephen retorted cheekily. But his attempt to lighten the mood failed miserably. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit? I guess you’re not here to give me your blessing... Not that I intended to ask for it, anyway...”

He saw Jamie Fraser clench his fists before looking down the hall. There wasn’t a single guard around. The Scotsman then went a little closer to Stephen, who stiffened, ready to receive a few punches. But instead, Brianna's father leaned over him and began to whisper.

“My daughter decided tae break ye out o’ here, with the help o’ yer crew… I dinnae like the idea, but it turns out that this prison is full of other men who are fighting for a righteous cause, and a dear friend o’ mine wants them out…”

“Well, that’s lucky for me…”, Stephen crooned with a smile. His cheerful demeanor was mainly due to the fact that he now knew Brianna had not abandoned him, and although he had asked her not to wait for him, he was unable to hide the joy he felt knowing she had _once again_ disobeyed him.

“How reit ye are”, Fraser growled, glaring at him. “All ye have tae do is wait here for the day of yer execution. Dinnae try tae escape on yer own…”

“So… You want me to sit still and look pretty…? I think I can do that…” He slightly raised his tied hands for emphasis and the heavy chains jingled in the silence. “And then what?”

“Ye’re an intelligent man, or so I’ve been told: ye can run. It is very much like walking, but faster...”

Stephen chuckled and threw another mischievous glance towards the corner of the cell, making his visitor more and more uncomfortable. Daddy Fraser wasn’t making things easy for him, but he couldn't really blame him… The pirate suddenly wondered how honest Brianna had been with him. Had she sugar-coated her story and simply mentioned a sinful romance with a frisky pirate? Or had she mentioned the auction and their stormy beginnings? He was literally itching to know. But he didn’t want to suffer the wrath of such a gigantic Scotsman, especially when he was himself tied up and as weak as a starving beggar.

“I meant… after that.”

He already knew what Fraser was going to say. The typical speech of the good family man: the ocean is no place for a young woman, pirates seldom live to see their forties, my daughter deserves better than an outlaw... He already knew all the arguments. Over the years, many of his sailors had been denied beautiful brides for the same reasons. When it came to buy smuggled goods or weapons, people knew where to find pirates. But pirates were never the first choice when it came to marry their daughters.

However, Brianna was not like the other girls. She was neither a prude nor a bigot. She was smart, fearless… sometimes too much for her own good. She had the incredible ability to get out of just about any situation, whether through trickery or valid arguments. Even more incredible was her ability to wrap him around her little finger. She was a free spirit, far from convention. She didn't care about good manners or what society expected of her. She was made for this life, for _his_ life. Plain and simple.

“She will definitely want ye to stay with her… or to follow ye… and I cannot talk some sense into her.”

Stephen narrowed his eyes. There was a hint of sadness and disappointment in the Scot’s deep voice. _Uh oh, seems like the family reunion didn’t go as planned_ , he thought. His green eyes moved briefly to the right, towards the wall as if he was consulting an invisible third party, then began to analyze Jamie carefully and a mocking grin crept on his lips. “That's because you're not _him_ , isn’t it?”

Jamie's head snapped up and a murderous glow lit up his blue eyes. Stephen had hit a nerve.

“The man who raised her...”, the pirate added unnecessarily.

The Scot’s expression told him he was right. There was a gap between father and daughter, not only in mentality, but also in feelings. They had had a few moments since they had met, but Jamie constantly felt in competition. Compared to a man who would die two hundred years later. He would never be as understanding or modern as Frank had been. He was also unable to make up for a twenty-two years absence in his daughter's life. Jamie gritted his teeth and looked down on the Irishman.

“That is why it has tae come from ye. She probably thinks ye love her…” Jamie shook his head as if the idea was stupid. “She willnae stop as long as she is convinced of it. Do her a favor and wake her up from this pipe dream.”

Stephen's gaze turned cold. Who was this man to decide on other people’s feelings? He wasn’t used to being told what to do by strangers, let alone when it came to choices that affected his private life. If he was to push Brianna away from him, he would make that decision on his own. Or with Brianna, but that was it. As to the nature of his feelings towards the young woman... He didn't know if that was what people called love... but there was definitely something. Something that had kept him warm in the freezing dungeon. That had terrified him when she had jumped into the cenote. That had given him the strength to carry on after the gigantic wave had swept him away.

Something that had also kept him from touching or thinking about any other woman since she had stepped out of his life. As the Irishman remained silent, Jamie assumed his point had been made and their conversation was drawing to a close. Without another word, he turned and left the cell. He had just crossed the threshold of Stephen’s cage when the pirate’s voice rose again. Cheeky, with a hint of arrogance. Even chained to the wall like a dog, he still found a way to stand up to him.

“And if I refuse?”

Jamie froze. This simple question, these four little words meant it all. Brianna wasn’t delusional. The man had indeed a heart and she had somehow managed to tame it. That would certainly complicate things. He lowered his nose, but chose not to turn to the prisoner.

“If ye love her, ye will let her go.”

And without further ado, he strode away down the hall, leaving the captain alone in his cell again. Jamie Fraser had certainly given him much to think about and he would eventually consider the different options available. But not right now. A strange smile, both triumphant and satisfied, crept onto his lips. The cell suddenly seemed brighter, cleaner. The walls less damp and the stone less cold.

He shifted his gaze again to the opposite corner of the now empty cell and his smile widened. Brianna, or rather her image that had never left him since he had been tortured, smiled back at him with the confidence of someone whose mission is accomplished. A moment later, Stephen blinked and when his eyelids snapped open, she was gone.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**What did you think of this chapter? The crisis meeting at Fergus and Marsali’s house, O’Brien’s past and the reason for his unwavering loyalty towards Bonnet, and most importantly Jamie’s visit in prison! Stephen's sanity has suffered from torture and we are only getting a glimpse of how his brain dealt with it. This will not be without consequences, as you will see...**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter and look forward to reading the next one! Until then, I can’t wait to read your comments and wish you a wonderful week! See you next Monday!**

**Xérès**


	23. Casadh an tSúgáin

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Here we are ! The great escape ! I’m sure you will recognize the vibes of episode 1 of season 4 in the beginning of the chapter, but after that... well, I hope the whole thing will surprise you and that you will love seeing Brianna and her allies wreak havoc in Wilmington! xD**

**Thank you all of you who read, commented and kudozed last chapter !**

**oOo**

  1. _Casadh an tSúgáin_ (The twisting of the rope)



It was about noon when the Wilmington prison guards opened the death row cells and placed the prisoners in single file in the corridor. Shackles were placed around their ankles and wrists, tied to heavy chains, and the men’s eyes darkened. Stephen had no doubt that some of them had received a message similar to the one Brianna's father had conveyed to him, but there was always a risk that their plan would fail. And they would all end up in a communal grave before the end of the day.

Once tied to each other, they were led to the exit and joined by a group of drummers loudly announcing the passage of convicts through the streets. Slowly, the line began to move towards the main square, to the slow and sinister beat of the ominous musicians. The crowd was also gathering on the square, casting worried, hateful or sad looks at the inmates. Despite the large number of spectators, only a faint murmur could be heard, as if they were refraining from speaking aloud as they passed. The only actual sounds were the thumping of the drums and the clicking of the chains.

Stephen took a few discreet glances around the crowd, but found no familiar faces there. Not a single member of his crew, not a single red hair, just an anonymous, hostile mob. He looked straight ahead and continued to walk. Soon the dismal silhouette of the gallows stood out against the gray December sky, and all the prisoners looked up in its direction. One of the leading soldiers motioned for them to stop and the shackles were unlocked and removed, giving them some freedom of movement for a few more minutes. The executioner was already waiting on the platform, next to the noose prepared for the occasion. Stephen cocked his head slightly to the side, counting the number of men in the line ahead of him. Four. Four faces he would see turn red, then blue, swell and sputter, before his turn came.

The first man was unceremoniously grabbed and dragged towards the gallows. Stephen saw him glance around in panic, seeking support from the crowd, but no one moved a finger. The pirate's green eyes scanned the horizon but nothing indicated that any plan was underway. He lowered his head, gently massaging his sore wrists, and ran his tongue over his front teeth. A whimper came from the platform on which the poor wretch had just been brought up, staring frantically at the men and women at his feet. The executioner unrolled a paper scroll and began to read the man’s identity, as well as the charges against him. “Willful murder and felony against the peace of His Majesty, his crown and his dignity.” A bunch of nonsense. As if a poor fellow who killed another in the Colonies could threaten the peace and dignity of good old King George, on the other side of the ocean...

The executioner placed the rope around the man's neck and the drums sounded again. The man who had read the charges raised a sword in the air, before lowering it to the ground. Immediately, another man pulled on a rope to open the trap door in the floor and the convict fell through it, passing away in a matter of seconds. The crowd whispered again and a few faces turned away. _Three more to go_ , Stephen thought, gritting his teeth. The convicts took a few more steps forward, shortening the distance between them and the killing machine.

From where he was now, Stephen had a better view of the people closest to the platform and he rose an eyebrow when he met Lord Tryon's venomous gaze. The pirate was about to wave a hand at him, with all the audacity he was capable of, but froze when he saw a man lean towards the governor's ear and whisper a few words to him. This man was none other than Charles MacNamara, who had probably come here to pocket his reward and enjoy the show. In other circumstances, Stephen would have almost felt flattered that he had come all this way from Philadelphia, but right now all he wanted was to find something sharp enough and hammer it deep into his traitor’s skull.

Both Irishmen exchanged a look and MacNamara smirked, as Tryon answered something Stephen couldn't hear at that distance. On the platform, the second prisoner (a repeat thief, this time) had fallen through the trap door, his feet shaking for a few seconds before coming to a stop for good. At this point, Stephen really began to doubt. What if Fraser had only come to give him false hope? What if Brianna had been arrested and locked up before she could carry out her plan? The line moved forward again and he frowned. He had been convinced his entire life that he would die by drowning… Would his existence really come to an end here, now, with his feet hanging in the air in front of an anonymous crowd? The stairs to the platform were now right in front of his feet and he would have been lying if he had pretended not to be terrified.

“Excuse me… sorry… Step aside, for God’s sake!”, a voice said behind his back.

Stephen turned around and saw two people trying to make their way through the crowd. The first was a man about his age, with dark unruly hair and several-days-old-beard. The man's eyes widened as he saw the first two corpses under the trapdoor and the third man who already had the noose around his neck. He reached out to help the second person get through and Stephen's heart skipped a beat. Her hair tucked under a hood, Brianna had just extricated herself from the sea of people and looked around, before meeting the pirate’s eyes.

He wouldn’t have been able to describe how he felt, even if he had to. After weeks spent imagining her in his head, she was finally in front of him again, in the flesh, and he couldn't help but smile broadly. No irony, no sarcasm, not the slightest spark of mischief. Just a smile of pure happiness. His expression clearly surprised the young woman, and she seemed to wonder how he could smile at her like that, when he was only a few feet away from death. Then he saw her turn to the dark-haired man who had pulled her out of the crowd and speak hastily to him, glancing towards the street that led to the prison. Stephen heard the words “why” and “late”. The man shrugged and Stephen read “I don't know” on his lips, before he looked in the same direction.

“We have to save some time!”, Brianna yelped, loud enough this time for Stephen to hear. But he was too busy staring at her to react. If he was to leave this Earth, he was glad to be able to look at his pretty lass one last time. He would thus greet Death with a ready smile.

Behind him, the drums sounded again and he realized that the third convict was about to be executed. But Brianna suddenly rushed over to the platform and screamed.

“Stop!”

The sword froze in mid-air and all eyes turned to the young, hooded woman who had just interrupted the killing. The convict blinked, looking as surprised as the executioner, and stared at her, wondering if he had already seen this girl.

“What is the matter, Miss?”, the executioner asked as the drums fell silent.

Brianna opened her mouth like a fish out of water, searching for something to say to extend the deadline. Absolutely all eyes were on her and she began to stammer miserably. “I… I'm part of a committee…”, she said in a loud but uncertain voice. In the audience, someone coughed. “… A committee… against… death penalty!”

The executioner and the officer with the list exchanged a bewildered look as a heavy silence fell all over the place. To back up her words, Brianna lifted her chin confidently. The convict turned to the executioner and shook his head, as if to say he had never met this woman and was not responsible for her nonsense.

“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard...”, the officer muttered, before turning to his colleague. “Please proceed.”

The drums rang out again but Brianna did not let go. “Who is going to kill _you,_ then?”, she barked over the drums, which stopped once again.

“I beg your pardon?”, the executioner said, outraged, and a brief sarcastic laughter escaped Stephen's lips. He had missed her crazy ideas more than he should, and was delighted to see her sowing discord in her wake, as she always did.

“You take these men’s lives for the crimes they committed, including murders... So I’m asking you: who will take your life for the murders you commit? See? It's a vicious circle!”

There was movement near the platform and Stephen saw out of the corner of his eye that Tryon and MacNamara were craning their necks to try and get a better look at the mysterious troublemaker. There were a few murmurs of approval in the crowd, but mostly insults thrown at the young woman. The abolition of death penalty was not a very popular opinion yet. The executioner towered above her on the platform. He was furious.

“You’re forgetting yourself, Miss! Please be quiet, or I will have you arrested for public nuisance!”

“Yeah, shut her up!”, someone called out. There were approving whispers in the crowd and Brianna turned once again to the man accompanying her. He shrugged and she turned away from him to look at Stephen again, her blue eyes filling with tears. To make things worse, the pirate was still smiling at her, perfectly calm and serene, as if he was accepting his fate. This only increased Brianna's anxiety. Her partner suddenly exclaimed in a loud voice, tinged with a characteristic Scottish accent:  
“It's her! Look, that’s the Rrred Witch!”, he yelled, pointing his finger at her. Brianna looked at him in amazement, before she understood what he was doing. Around them, people abruptly took a few steps back and several voices cried out in panic.

“Who?”

“A witch?”

“Protect the women and children!”

A smile floated on Brianna's lips. With one hand, she took off her hood, exposing her red hair, and raised both hands in the air.

“That's right!”, she yelled, baring her teeth. “I am the Red Witch, who devours freshly buried corpses in their graves!” A few women screamed and Brianna turned towards the stage, pointing a vengeful finger at the executioner. “I command you to let all the prisoners go... or I will curse this miserable town to the sixth generation!”

Her performance was a perfect imitation of the witches from old black and white Italian horror movies, and the terrified faces in the crowd nearly made her burst into laughter. She wasn't the only one to be amused by her acting skills: Stephen looked around in delight, as she instilled fear among the good citizens of Wilmington. Lord Tryon had rushed towards her, but the retreating crowd forced him to back off.

“Arrest that woman!”, the governor bellowed, just a few seconds before a deafening noise echoed through Wilmington. A few hundred yards away, an explosion had occurred in the prison district and on the platform, the three men’s eyes – officers and prisoner – widened at the same time. A fiery column of orange flames and black smoke rose into the sky, but before anyone could figure out what had just happened, another blast rocked the city and this time, it was the governor’s palace – a little further north – that was scattered to the winds.

Stephen bent his knees, startled by the two explosions, and looked up at the sky in a daze. When he lowered his eyes towards Brianna, he saw her and the Scot smile from ear to ear. As if this was the signal she had been waiting for, Brianna rushed over to Stephen and grabbed his hand to drag him down the nearby alleys, with the Scot on their heels. Suddenly, armed men wearing kilts appeared all around them and swooped towards the gallows to free the remaining prisoners, and the sound of firing rifles and pistols soon added to the screams of the crowd. Wilmington, usually a quiet town, looked like it was in the middle of an apocalypse. With the thick black smoke from the explosions, the Regulators’ angry war cries, and everyone running around in all directions, it was a total chaos.

Brianna and Stephen were running madly among the locals trying to get away from the main square, and the young woman turned every now and then to make sure Roger was still behind them. Two English soldiers suddenly blocked their way: one unsheathed a long saber and the other raised a loaded rifle, but too late. Stephen ran into him and hit him so hard that both men rolled in the mud over a few yards. Roger picked up the rifle from the ground and awkwardly raised it towards the second soldier, who immediately stopped dead in his tracks, his sword raised in the air. He seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, assessing his opponent's ability to cause a serious injury, but Roger seemed as comfortable with a gun as a fawn on a frozen lake. The soldier sensed it and yelled, ready to strike the Scotsman, but a Regulator appeared from behind and knocked him out with a hammer on the back of his head.

Brianna ran to Roger as the Englishman fell face down on the ground, blood pouring out from his skull. Her ex-boyfriend was petrified. With a swift but gentle gesture, she took the weapon from his hands.

“Give it to me, you'll hurt yourself...”, she said before throwing the rifle at the Regulator, who thanked her with a nod before disappearing into the battle. A hand rested on her shoulder and she jumped, but it was only Stephen, who had managed to get rid of his assailant. A few seconds later, they were running again in the streets. The crowd soon became less dense, as did the acrid smoke that was ascending from the two burning buildings, and Brianna felt Stephen pull her back slightly. She turned around and saw him bend over, resting his hands on his knees. They had only run a few hundred yards, but the torture and almost total lack of movement of the past few weeks had seriously weakened him. The young woman glanced around but luckily, no one seemed to be paying attention to them. She bent down as well to check on him and was surprised to hear him laugh between two wheezes.

“Did you call in… all the Regulators… for me?”, he gasped with an ecstatic smile.

Brianna let out a nervous laugh and shook her head, taking advantage of that break to catch her breath as well. “Only those from North Carolina… Why? Are you disappointed?”

The pirate burst into laughter, as if it was the funniest thing he had heard in his life. There was something crazy and worrying about his laughter, as if the weeks he had just spent in custody had had much more impact on his sanity than she had imagined. Without any warning, he straightened up and pulled her against him to kiss her passionately. Brianna considered protesting for a moment: she had always hated those stupid scenes in action movies in which protagonists waste precious time exchanging saliva or monologuing in critical moments. But the sensation of Stephen's lips on hers, after so many weeks and a long list of drama, was so intoxicating that she let herself be carried away, sliding her arms around his neck. When he finally let her go, a silly smile spread over her lips and she had to harness all her energy to take her eyes off his. Until she realized something.

“Where's Roger?”

“Who?”, Stephen asked, frowning.

“He was right behind us!”

 _Oh right, the Scot_ … The pirate spun around, but the dark-haired man was nowhere to be found. What he saw, however, was the barrel of a pistol pointed at them. And at the other end of the gun, Charles MacNamara's hand clenched in fury. The Irish mobster seemed to have been quite shaken by the crowd. One of his sleeves was torn, his collar was messy and his bottom lip was bleeding. His face was crimson, but Brianna couldn't tell if it was because he had been running or because of his rage. Instinctively, she placed herself in front of Stephen and even if it cost him, the pirate let her. MacNamara needed her alive: he wouldn't dare pull the trigger if she was right in the line of fire.

“I knew she wouldn't resist the temptation to rescue you...”, MacNamara said between his teeth. “In case you’re wondering, I never believed a single word of this whole infected wound thing.”

“I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try...”, Stephen quipped with a fake smile.

“We have worked together for many years, my dear Mr. Bonnet. I’ve learned to know what your face looks like when you take people for fools…”

Stephen opened his eyes wide and put a hand to his heart, with obvious bad faith. “Me? Take people for…? I would never!”

He saw MacNamara tilt his head to the side, as if to say ‘that’s what I’m talking about’, and the pirate chuckled. Brianna had no idea how he could act so perky in a moment like this, but she blamed it on the joy of not being dead. _Not yet, at least_. But if he kept provoking their enemy, that could change very quickly.

“Give me the lass and I'll let you go back to your crew. We’ll call it even… ”, the receiver drawled.

Stephen narrowed his eyes threateningly. His voice was barely louder than a growl. “And now, _you_ are takin’ me for a fool...”

“Poetic justice, if you ask me.”

Both men stared at each other for a moment, as Brianna's eyes remained on the gun barrel, ready to see it spit out a shower of sparks and a deadly lead bullet at any moment. As no one moved or spoke anymore, the receiver went on:

“Lord Tryon and I have an arrangement… She will receive a land, a huge estate, and gold, a lot of gold… A lot more than any whore could dream of. Provided of course that she gives us the location of every treasure she knows... and that you disappear from her life.”

“Do you realize that calling someone a whore isn't the best way to get into her favor...?”, Brianna spat with a scornful scowl.

“Take some time to think about it, my dear...”

“Yeah, why don’t you go fuck yourself with your gold and your land?”

MacNamara raised his eyebrows, unaccustomed to hearing a young lady speak like that. He was about to retort when movement caught his attention in his peripheral vision. Emerging from the shadow of a building, a heavy stone in his right hand, Roger bounced on the mobster and slammed the rock on his skull. The shock wasn't strong enough to stun him, but sufficient to throw him off balance and make him drop his gun, which fell to the ground with a slight metallic click. Immediately, Stephen walked around Brianna and threw himself on his ex-partner to punch him in the face.

“Roger!”

Relieved to see him safe and sound, Brianna threw herself on the Scot to hug him briefly. Roger was about to hug her back when he caught Bonnet's suspicious, icy gaze on them. _No, on me_ , Roger inwardly corrected. The man, with that grim scar crossing his cheek, was downright scary and he wondered why Brianna seemed unaware of that fact. Gently pushing the young woman away, he cast a worried look around them. “Come on, let’s not hang around here for too long.”

But Brianna wasn't moving. Neither was Bonnet. The pair exchanged a brief glance before turning back to MacNamara, kneeling on the ground, blood all over his head and face.

“Bree, I'm serious, we need to move…”, Roger hissed, with a hint of panic.

Brianna's eyelids twitched, and she bit her lip. “He won't leave us alone...”

“What?” Roger stared at her in amazement, before realizing that Bonnet was nodding his head imperceptibly, as if he fully understood what the young woman meant. Before he could make a move to stop her, Brianna went to the pistol, picked it up and after a brief hesitation pointed it at MacNamara with a serious, but determined expression. The receiver looked up, his head covered with fresh blood, his jaws clenched and eyes flashing with hatred. Now that she had him at her feet, she didn’t understand how he had scared her so much.

“Brianna, you don't have to do this...”, Roger's voice said behind her back, but it sounded distant, muffled, as if he was on the other side of a thick reinforced door.  
Her mind was going over all the painful and terrifying things she had suffered because of MacNamara. His threats in Philadelphia, his henchmen using her against Stephen, their forced separation that had left her heartbroken... Not to mention the captain's arrest and all its consequences. And that sort of thing would happen again and again, as long as he would breathe. She wrinkled her nose and her fingers tightened around the butt.

“Darlin’... Give me the gun...”

Brianna felt her lower lip quiver. Stephen's voice was so calm and soft that in other circumstances, she would have obeyed immediately. On the ground, a smirk slowly crept on MacNamara's lips, as if he enjoyed seeing her weak and hesitating.

“Brianna.”

The Irishman's tone had hardened. Taking a deep breath, Brianna nodded and lowered the weapon, turning her head to find comfort in his green eyes. Slowly, Stephen's right hand moved towards the pistol to take it, but it was precisely at that moment that MacNamara jumped on his feet, in a last desperate attempt to attack his former partner. He wasn’t fast enough, however. Surprised by the sudden movement, Brianna reflexively raised the barrel and pulled the trigger, sending the bullet straight through the receiver's forehead. The man's body collapsed with a dull thud and Brianna blinked several times. What had just happened? It had all gone so fast, she hadn't even thought about it. For the second time in her life, she had killed a man. In self-defense. How was she supposed to feel right now? Guilty? Horrified by her own actions? But as she watched MacNamara's skull surrounded by a growing puddle of blood, all she felt was tremendous relief.

“We can’t stay here, darlin’…”, Stephen hissed, throwing the now useless weapon aside. He took Brianna's hand and pulled it to the left. “The harbor is that way. The _Gloriana_ will be expecting us there.”

Brianna snapped out of her stupor and stammered: “It- it won’t.”

“If it’s not there, it must be in...”

“Not in Ocracoke either”, Roger said, rushing down a dark, empty alley.

“My men have orders...”

"Well, the orders changed...”, Brianna snapped, hoping he would stop asking embarrassing questions. In front of them, Roger turned and the knowing smirk he gave his ex-girlfriend did not exactly please the pirate.

“O’Brien would never-”

“Oh, here we are!”, Brianna cried at the top of her lungs, as the Scotsman chuckled under his breath. “The _Gloriana_ is waiting for us elsewhere, for now we'll go inland and keep a low profile.” As Stephen still seemed skeptical, she added: “Do you trust me?”

Stephen winced. Brianna narrowed her eyes and he pretended to think about it before nodding with a fake smile. “Let’s say I do...”

“Over here…”, a voice said from a nearby barn. Stephen looked up and saw a tall, handsome woman, probably in her fifties, with jet black hair that was as curly as Brianna's.

“Mrs. Fraser…”, he greeted her as he walked through the barn door. He had such a casual and insolent smile that Claire Fraser blinked several times without saying a word, while her daughter pursed her lips in embarrassment. Inside the barn, Jamie was hitching up two horses to a cart, while Marsali and Fergus loaded up half of the rear part with big jute bags.

Marsali's face rose as soon as she heard them and smiled brightly.

“Marsali, you were supposed to stay at home! It's far too dangerous! What would happen to Joan and Germain if you _and_ Fergus got caught?”, Brianna hissed, running to her. The young mother jumped out of the cart with a long sigh.

“And miss that?” She leaned into Brianna's ear, lowering her tone. “Sorry, I had to see him with my own eyes…”, she whispered, eyeing the pirate appreciatively. “I understand _a lot_ better now.”

Fergus smiled and shook his head. “I couldn't talk some sense into her. You know how she is…”

“Hop in”, Jamie said abruptly, stepping around the cart. He was obviously avoiding the pirate's gaze and Stephen thought he must have hoped the whole operation would fail. He saw Brianna take a short breath and huff loudly, as if to mentally prepare herself to face a challenge and he frowned.

“Are you sure? You can always ride…”, her mother said softly.

“Every citizen of Wilmington saw my face… I have spent hours under these boards trying to get over my fear, I won’t back out now…”

“You've been preparing for days, I know you can do it…” Roger's soothing voice and confident smile reassured her and she took his hand to squeeze it, without even thinking about it. Both of them shared a common past that was still too fresh for this kind of gesture not to come naturally and it did not escape Stephen’s eye. He had been silent until then. Even though he had bragged in front of Brianna's mother, her father’s unfriendliness had reminded him that he was not welcome. As usual. But the sight of Brianna holding a hand that wasn’t his own annoyed him more than he wanted to admit and he felt the urge to interfere.

“Do what, exactly?”, he asked more harshly than intended.

Brianna jumped and immediately let Roger's hand go, while Marsali and Fergus exchanged a meaningful look and a mocking smile.

“We built a false floor at the back of the cart”, Claire explained as she walked towards the vehicle. “Enough for both of you. Once you’re in there, we will cover everything up with bags so that no one can see you.”

“All the soldiers stationed around the city must have been alerted by the blasts and some of the Regulators were told to take care of those stationed on the road to River Run…”, Fergus added gently, “but you can’t be too careful.”

“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do…”, Brianna groaned to herself and before she felt the urge to beat a hasty retreat, she climbed into the cart, sat in the back and invited the pirate to do the same. He smirked at the thought of being locked up in such a small space with his former prisoner and climbed into the cart as well, glancing mockingly at Roger on the way. The Scot narrowed his eyes, even more questioning his ex-girlfriend's sanity for falling in love with a guy like him. But it was probably some sort of mystic Irish charm that only worked on young women, for he heard Marsali stifle a laugh under a coughing fit. Judging by his scowl, Jamie Fraser was clearly not seduced by his potential son-in-law and that brought Roger a bit of comfort.

The two fugitives laid down in the back of the cart and Brianna took a deep breath. Fergus and Jamie grabbed the false floor to place it over their bodies and Brianna closed her eyes. The sound of the heavy bags covering the wooden planks was deafening, and she suddenly felt like she was in a coffin buried under shovelfuls of loose soil. She had never experienced anything so terrifying in her entire life, and yet this was not the first time she had found herself in confined spaces. A few weeks earlier, she had easily guided Stephen into the underground river on Saba Island. But the first time she had slipped into the false floor that Jamie and Murtagh had crafted over the past few days, she had immediately and inexplicably panicked.

“I was starting to think you were fearless, darlin’… Glad to see I was wrong!”, Stephen said somewhere on her left and she let out a groan, without opening her eyes. She wasn't sure she could keep her cool if she saw the boards a few inches above her nose. The rest of her body had an annoying tendency to shake with each new bag thrown over their heads. As her family's voices sounded more and more muffled, she squeezed her eyelids harder, to the point of feeling the muscles in her temples tighten painfully.

Too absorbed in her claustrophobia, she had almost forgotten the pirate's presence by her side and almost had a heart attack when Stephen's hand rested on hers, their fingers intertwining slowly. The skin was rougher than she remembered, and his fingers seemed swollen, injured, but she didn't have enough space to inspect them anyway. Turning her head to the side, she opened her eyes again and was relieved to see that there was just enough light left in their hiding place to make out the face of the man she thought lost forever. The sight calmed her almost immediately and she even managed a tensed grin.

Stephen did not move. He just stared at her in the faint light filtering through the boards, with the same serene expression he had in front of the gallows. His smile was indecipherable; there was certainly a part of happiness for escaping death, but she could see something else. Something that made her heart beat a little faster in her chest. Something she desperately wanted to hear.

“Stop laughing at me…”, she stammered, hoping he would tell her why he was actually looking at her like this. Stephen's lips curved a little more, adding a hint of sarcasm to the panel of emotions that already appeared on his features. But despite weeks of separation, he knew perfectly well what she wanted to hear.

“I missed you, darlin’...”

Brianna's heart skipped a beat and she was about to return the compliment when the cart jolted violently, indicating that their journey to River Run had just begun. She tensed immediately and closed her eyes for a few seconds, before turning them back to the pirate. To her disappointment, his peaceful smile was gone, replaced by his usual smirk.

“So… Devourin’ corpses, huh...?”, he mocked, referring to her performance in front of the crowd. Brianna let out a nervous chuckle.

“Only on full moon nights...”

They exchanged a silly smile and in the darkness, Stephen's thumb gently stroked Brianna’s fingers.

“Very reassuring.”

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**What are your thoughts about this chapter? Personally, I loved writing the awkward moment when Brianna tries to interrupt the execution (even the convict is embarrassed, ahah), and meanwhile Stephen is just happy and laughing his head off. Brianna can feel he is not his usual self, but she has no idea what to expect… and it might take her a few days to fully realize it. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and until next Monday, I wish you a wonderful week!**

**Xérès**


	24. Fanfaidh Mé Ortsa

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Finally, our two lovebirds are reunited but after the scaffold, another problem awaits Stephen in the person of ... Jamie Fraser. The Scotsman and his temper will be hard to deal with, but Brianna will do her best to make Stephen's return as sweet as possible...**

**Thank you all of you who read, commented and kudozed the previous chapter!**

oOo

  1. _Fanfaidh Mé Ortsa_ (I’ll stay with you)



Time. What a strange concept. Just the day before, the eight-hour ride from River Run to Wilmington had seemed endless. Brianna had dreaded the journey back, trapped under the false floor and the heavy bags, convinced that the minutes would tick by even slower and that she would panic before they left the city. But with Stephen's gaze on her, his hand squeezing hers, she had let herself be carried away in contemplation. A ray of light on his scar, another on a lock of blond hair, his worried gaze when English soldiers had briefly stopped the cart to check the load – fortunately without seeing them. After all this time admiring him only in her memories and drawings, having him in front of her again seemed almost unreal and she would have probably thought she was dreaming if the regular bumps of the road hadn’t ruined any attempt to fall asleep. They had not spoken since they had left Wilmington – so as not to betray their presence, but also because neither of them could find the words to express their feelings. But despite the silence and stillness, Brianna was almost surprised when the cart finally stopped and the huge bags covering the false floor were removed. _Already?_

Almost confused, she saw the wooden ceiling rise. They were in the stables in River Run, where her cousin Ian was helping Claire store the bags in a corner. Jamie and Roger were getting rid of the planks by throwing them on the straw covered ground and Brianna sat up. Her back creaked loudly and she winced as she tried to fold her legs for the first time since the morning.

“Feelin’ a little rusty, cousin?”, Ian mocked, seeing her gradually regain control of her stiff body.

Brianna groaned and struggled to extricate herself from her hiding place. “I never would have thought it was so hard to lie down doing nothing...”

“It couldn't have been that hard, considering this is how you got through most of your teenage crisis…”, her mother taunted as Ian and Roger smirked.

The young woman hopped out of the cart and before Stephen could do the same, she muttered: “Please, don't be the kind of mother who feels compelled to tell a whole bunch of awkward childhood stories when I introduce someone to her for the first time…”

“Too late, that’s a promise we made with Frank and I intend to keep it. We even made a list…”, Claire retorted in a low voice, before casting a worried look at Jamie, who seemed determined to put the bags away in utter silence. Brianna followed her mother's eyes and sighed. Stephen jumped from the cart as well and staggered. His legs, numb and weakened by his time in jail, hardly supporting his weight. The redhead rushed over to put his arm over her own shoulders, ignoring his protests. It was then, despite the faint moonlight that lit the stable through the wide open door, that she noticed the disaster that was the pirate's right hand. Looking down, she saw that the other hand was in an equally pitiful state.

“What the...? Mom! His hands! Look at his hands!”

Stephen groaned and tried to hide his mutilated fingers from the two women, but Claire Fraser had already grabbed one of his wrists to lift it up at eye level.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, what happened to you?”

The pirate winced and glanced briefly at Brianna. “It’s nothing, really. Lord Tryon has just gone a little heavy on the nail brush...”

“He tortured you…?”, Claire whispered, not really waiting for an answer. It was more a statement than an actual question.

“Why?”

This time, it was his sweet Brianna who had talked and he arched an eyebrow that spoke volumes. The young woman didn't need to think for more than five seconds: the answer was quite obvious. What MacNamara had said a few hours earlier came back to her. _Lord Tryon and I have an arrangement_...

“He wanted to know where I was...”

Stephen nodded silently when a sudden movement behind his back startled them all. Jamie had dropped the bag he was carrying and rose to his full height, eyeing the pirate suspiciously.

“What did ye tell him?”

The Scotsman’s voice was harsh, cold, almost aggressive and Stephen gritted his teeth. He was feeling a bit insulted that Fraser implied he could have dropped any information that may endanger Brianna. But he did not want to bite the hand that had just saved him from the gallows, so he swallowed his pride and answered calmly.

“Absolutely nothing, sir. Believe me, if I had wanted to tip them off about your daughter’s location, I’d still have all my nails.”

Jamie pursed his lips and added nothing.

“Ian, would you please get my bag and set it up in the small living room? Oh and… ask Phaedre to boil some water!”, Claire ordered in a soft voice. Ian immediately answered a loud “ _Aye_ , Auntie Claire” before leaving the stables at full speed, and the healer turned to Bonnet with an apologetic smile. “The good news is I think I can limit the damage…”

“What’s the bad news?”, Stephen asked, wincing.

“It’s going to be painful…”

Bonnet hesitated for a moment, as if he was considering what to answer. His eyes rested on Brianna, holding him tight against her, and a soft smile spread across his lips. He had been able to withstand torture, constantly keeping her image in mind. Now that she was by his side in the flesh, it didn't matter if his wounds had to be reopened. He almost felt invincible. “It will be fine.”

Brianna rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. “Show-off...”

He laughed and didn't protest when she slipped his arm over her shoulders again to lead him out of the stables. They were walking through the door, out into the cold night, when Brianna turned her head to her father who was still standing by the cart. “Da’?”

“I'll be reit behind ye…”

He sounded gruff but forced a smile on his lips. The gap between them had widened since she and Roger had left River Run to find Bonnet in Wilmington, and he didn't know what to say or do to close it. He saw Brianna nod and walk away into the night under the pirate's arm. MacKenzie gave him an embarrassed smile and followed them as well. But it was his wife's reaction that hurt him more than any other. Her slight frown, the way she looked at him: with all the love she was capable of, and a hint of disappointment when his behavior reminded her that he could sometimes be a boor, two hundred years behind in evolution. Claire's love for him was unconditional, he knew that. But if he wanted to have Brianna's, he would certainly have to sacrifice a few principles on the altar of modernity.

By the time he decided to join the group, Claire had already settled down to extract Stephen's dead nails, trying to save what could be. The pirate winced in pain every now and then, but his shifty eyes mostly lingered on the lavish decoration of the small living room, the expensive curtains, the carved wooden furniture and the silver chandeliers. Jamie couldn't tell if he was checking out what would be easily resaleable or if he suddenly realized that he and Brianna were not part of the same world, but either way he intended to keep an eye on him. The pirate flinched violently and Claire immediately apologized, before dropping a torn nail tip into a small metal bowl.

“Bloody hell, what kind of tool did they use to do this...?”, Roger muttered in disgust, watching the scene from afar.

“Urchin spines...”

Brianna’s eyes widened in horror, but she said nothing, holding back a torrent of insults against the governor. A wise decision: at that very moment, her great-aunt Jocasta and her butler Ulysses entered the living room. Ulysses guided his blind mistress to the largest sofa, before leaning over to her ear and whispering a few words to her. Jocasta thanked him with a slow nod before fixing her vacant stare somewhere between Ian – who was watching the pirate's hands with disgust – and Brianna sitting next to him. Stephen frowned at the old lady's strange demeanor, but refrained from any comment.

“Have you heard from Murtagh?”, Jocasta asked with a hint of apprehension in her aristocratic tone.

Jamie took a few steps in the center of the room to stand in front of his aunt. “Not since we helped him launch the attack on Wilmington... But I'm sure we will hear about him once they are safe.”

Jocasta nodded again, without looking directly at her nephew, and this was too much for Stephen who finally gave in to his curiosity: in a slow and ample movement, he waved his unoperated hand above his own head, to see if it caught their hostess' attention. Brianna instantly nudged him, scowling, and he immediately lowered his arm. Claire bit the inside of her cheeks so as not to laugh and leaned over her work a little more, while Ulysses glared at the pirate.

“How is our guest, Ulysses?”, Jocasta asked, turning her head slightly towards her butler, who cleared his throat.

“Not very polite, Mistress.”

Stephen narrowed his eyes and was about to retort, but Claire didn't let him: she hurriedly pulled out another nail and he groaned in pain.

“I was asking about his physical condition, Ulysses.”

“He’s dirty and looks like he hasnae been fed for days”, Jamie intervened before the black butler made another cutting remark about Bonnet. He’d rather keep that privilege for himself. “But ye ken what they say: ill weeds grow apace...”

“What is a weed, if not a plant whose virtues have never been discovered?”, Brianna snapped back. Fraser instantly scowled, much to Stephen's delight, and remained silent. The living room door opened and slaves came in, their arms filled with food, and quickly set the table around Claire's operating field. One of them was about to set the plates, cutlery and glasses, but Claire cringed and Brianna stepped in.

“Thank you, we will take care of this. Thank you very much… You should go to bed, it is quite late already…”

Hesitating, the footmen put down their load and left the room, not taking their eyes off Jocasta in case she gave them a different order. Brianna grabbed a plate and filled it with a chicken drumstick and a hot potato, before placing it in front of Stephen. The pirate thanked her with a gentle smile and immediately seized the chicken with his free hand to take a bite, under Jamie’s and Ulysses’ disgusted gaze. The young woman bit her lip and out of solidarity, started nibbling at a juicy chicken wing while Roger set his sights on an apple. They shared a knowing smile and the tension eased in the room somewhat.

On the sofa, Jocasta turned to Jamie, as normally as possible, asking him for more details about the Regulators' revolt and Brianna let out a discreet sigh. Ironically, the rules of decency and politeness she was forced to observe since her arrival in River Run made her feel more like a prisoner than any moment spent on the _Gloriana_. Sailors didn't care how she ate, dressed or spoke, as long as she respected the hierarchy. She missed that freedom, now more than ever with Stephen by her side. The mere thought of feeling the wind in her hair again, snuggling against the pirate’s chest as he steered, made her heart pound. But Jamie Fraser wasn't ready for that conversation.

It was far into the night when Claire finally finished working on Stephen’s fingers. Jocasta had retired to her room, Ian was sleeping soundly curled up in an armchair, and Roger was showing signs of weakness as well. When Jamie gently shook his nephew to wake him up and tell him to go back to his room, Roger decided to follow suit. Sitting at the table, Bonnet was inspecting his bandaged fingers and Roger saw him chuckle as Brianna whispered a joke no one else could hear. He couldn't help but feel a hint of jealousy at the sight of her smiling and laughing with someone else, but he had no one to blame but himself. He had had his chance with her, and he had let her go. He just wanted her to be happy now, even in the arms of a dangerous pirate. But when he thought his exit would go unnoticed by the two lovebirds, Bonnet surprised him as he turned the door knob.

“That’s… Roger, right?”

The Scotsman turned and nodded. A flash of gratitude, perhaps even respect, lit up the captain's gaze.

“Thank you for your help, this morning… With the stone…”

“Oh…”, Roger blurted out, almost embarrassed that a man like Bonnet would take time to acknowledge his miserable act of bravery against MacNamara. _Say something, Roger. Just look cool for once in your life_ , he thought before slightly swelling out his chest: “I didnae really think about it… I just, um, did what I had to do… in the heat of the moment…” _Not cool. Not cool at all_.

“Right”, Bonnet drawled, smirking, as if he could read the young man's thoughts and his desperate effort to sound like a tough guy. Roger gave Jamie, Claire and the young couple a quick glance, bid them goodnight and quickly slipped away.

“I would like to thank you as well, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser, for saving my life… and my fingers!”, he added, waving them happily under Claire's nose, who was placing her surgical instruments in a water tray to soak.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Bonnet…”, Claire thanked him with a smile.

Jamie pursed his lips before lifting his chin up. “It is my daughter ye should thank. Without her, ye would certainly be six feet underground by now…”

The Scot had tried to sound as formal as possible but his solemn expression instantly disappeared when the pirate cooed:

“Believe me, sir, I very much intend to...”

 _Do you want to die, Stephen?_ , Brianna thought as Jamie’s face turned a bright shade of red, his eyebrows frowning in anger, and she stood up hastily. “We’re exhausted, I think it's time for _everyone_ to go to bed.” A glance at her mother was enough to call for her help and Claire hurriedly put all her instruments away.

“It's been a long day, indeed...”

Brianna smiled nervously and grabbed one of Stephen's hands. The Irishman protested with a loud “ow” but let himself be drawn out of the living room.

“Where d’ye think ye’re going, exactly?”

From the way Jamie had rolled his Rs, Brianna knew he wasn't going to let her get away with this. “Like I said, we’re-”

“There is nae 'we' in this house. A bed awaits Mr. Bonnet in the servants' quarters.”

Brianna’s mouth opened wide and she glanced at Stephen, expecting him to lose patience, but surprisingly he seemed rather… resigned. As if this discussion did not surprise him in any way. Brianna suddenly wished she knew what both men had said to each other when Jamie visited Stephen in his cell. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

“I won’t spend another night without him, end of discussion.”

“And I willnae let my daughter disgrace herself under this roof…”

“Jamie, that’s enough!”, Claire barked, slowly losing patience.

“I’ve spent over two months with him and absolutely _no one_ thought I was disgracing myself!”

Behind her, the pirate’s squinted eyes shifted from father to daughter and now and then to mother, as if he was watching some weird tennis game. His composure, however, was only a show, and if he hadn't had so much respect for the girl, he would have gladly plucked the Scot’s tongue out.

“Pirates have no honor! But in the real world, there are rules!”

“FUCK THE RULES!”

Everyone in the room jumped, including Jamie, who stared at his daughter in amazement. She herself seemed rather surprised by the rage in her own voice and she blinked several times, her eyes filling with angry tears. Since they had met, she had done everything in her power to make Jamie proud of the woman she had become, but his criteria for what made a girl honorable were simply unachievable. Frank had always told her he was proud of her no matter what she did, he never tried to alter her personality, so why was it so difficult for her biological father to do the same? _Because he doesn't know me… He doesn't know the girl that Frank raised. The young adult Roger comforted when she was left alone. The woman Stephen accepted the way she was. He doesn't know who I really am… How could I compete with the child he’s been idealizing in his head for twenty-two years?_

Before she could even think about the harm this could cause her parents, the words came out of her mouth.

“Frank would care less about my honor and more about my happiness…”

Stephen had to fight the urge to smirk when the Scotsman's face fell. Unfortunately for Ms. Fraser, who until then had been nothing but gentle and kind to him, Brianna’s retort was equally painful and he briefly felt sorry for that woman, torn between the two lives she had lived.

“Bree…”, she breathed, a hand on her stomach.

Her daughter gave her a sorry look. She had put down a winning card, knowing it would cut the argument short, but she wished her mother had not heard this. Brianna took a step back, taking Stephen's hand again, and whispered “Sorry, mama”, before leading the eerily silent pirate upstairs to her bedroom.

Stephen glanced around the room, once again impressed by the lavish decor. The Cameron's were even richer than he had imagined and that made him uncomfortable. All the more so if his sweet redhead was the sole heir. Could he really deprive her of this life out of pure selfishness? Brianna closed the door behind them and he heard her sniff miserably.

“Your father isn't entirely wrong…”, he said, sliding his fingers across the surface of a varnished wooden table. Not the slightest trace of dust.  
Before he had a chance to turn around, the young woman crossed the room and stared at him. There was so much guilt in the pirate’s gaze it tore Brianna’s heart open. Placing her palms on his cheeks, she forced him to look at her and said slowly:  
“You did not dishonor me.”

“I bought you, forced you to rob a grave, sold you to a client and deflowered you out of wedlock...”

“This is not the way I see things.”

Stephen snorted. “Oh, really?”

“You could have raped me… You could have locked me up, hurt me, but you never did. You listened to me, protected me… You _trusted_ me. Until I gave you some of that trust back and offered my body and soul to you. _This_ is what really happened.”

He imperceptibly shook his head. “I'm afraid my first intentions were not as laudable... I just wanted to subdue you...”

“And look at you, now… Caught at your own game…”, Brianna whispered, bringing her face closer to his.

The touch of their lips sent an electric shock through Brianna’s body and she pushed herself against the captain's chest, her fingers already taking his filthy clothes off. A pungent smell emanated from him, remnants of weeks of torture, despair and isolation, but Brianna didn't care. She just wanted to feel Stephen's hands on her body again. Interrupting their kiss, they scrambled to get rid of their respective clothes and unlace Bree's corset, which took a little longer than her usual waist cincher, and the pirate threw the garment to the ground with an exasperated click of his tongue. Brianna chuckled and pulled him towards the bed, but he shook his head.

“I am not in your family’s good graces, I think they would send me back to jail if I go to bed covered in filth...”

“Trust me, nobody knows what filth is until they fall onto a dead body…”, Brianna quipped, pushing him backwards. Stephen's knees hit a chair and he sank into it, soon topped by a mischievous-looking redhead who had just got rid of her petticoats. “But if it bothers you that much, we don't have to use the bed.”

As an answer, Stephen pulled her against him, kissing and sometimes nibbling the soft skin of her breasts. Brianna closed her eyes and ran her fingers through his blonde hair, pressing his face harder against her. The pirate’s hands scrambled over the ties of his canvas pants, and Brianna soon lifted herself just enough to clear the way. His arms tightening around her waist, he sank deeper and deeper into her, as she let out a satisfied sigh. The delicious feeling of being one again could have been more than enough for them, after all these weeks, but Brianna soon started to move gently between Stephen's arms.

As she admired her lover’s hungry eyes on her naked body, Brianna knew she couldn't leave him. And honor, decency, or her father for that matter, would never change that. She opened her mouth, ready to whisper three words she had never been able to say before, but the pirate mistook this for a potentially loud sigh of pleasure and hurried to kiss her for more discretion. Giving up on her confession, Brianna closed her eyes and let herself be carried away by their embrace.

~o~

A shy ray of light was already filtering through the thick velvet curtains, when Brianna woke up. Somewhere in the house, the sound of cutlery indicated that the house staff was preparing breakfast, but she had no desire to move. Very carefully, she risked a glance out of the sheet they had removed from the bed earlier that night and thrown on the floor where they had fallen asleep. Stephen’s eyelids were still closed and his chest regularly rose up under Brianna's arm. Under her palm, she could feel his heartbeat, steady and muffled, and she resisted the urge to stroke his chest so as not to wake him up. He had had a few nightmares during the night. She had always managed to appease him with a few languid kisses, but she could not help wondering what had been done to him in prison. Surely, they had not stopped after the fingernails…

But for the moment, Stephen’s face was nothing but peace and serenity, and she couldn't help but smile. She could have lied against him on the floor for hours, maybe even days, but outside their bubble the world kept turning. And the world took it upon itself to remind her of that when Phaedre – the young maid her Aunt Jocasta had specifically assigned to Brianna – entered as usual to wake her up and froze at the door.

“Oh... Miss Fraser... I... I'm sorry, I...”, the girl squealed, stepping back slowly. Obviously, no one had warned her that Brianna hadn't slept alone. And on the floor on top of that... Brianna raised a finger in front of her lips to beg her not to make a noise, but it was too late: Stephen's head had straightened up suddenly and she felt her happy bubble burst like a balloon. With a sigh, she pulled the sheet back to her chest, as Stephen stared at the intruder in amazement, wondering what she was doing there.

“I... I came to open the curtains...”, the maid stammered, looking away from Bonnet's bare chest.

Brianna ran a hand across her face. “I'm sorry, Phaedre, I should have… Someone should have told you it wasn't necessary…”

“Sh-shall I… oh… do you want me to open them for you or…?”

The poor child was obviously upset to find an unmarried young woman lying with a stranger, and Brianna decided to put an end to her misery. “Yes, please.”  
Phaedre ran – more than walked – to the curtains and pulled them back to let the late December sun in the room. “Would you like to… take a bath?”

“Yes, that… that would be lovely…”, Brianna replied, pursing her lips. She had never experienced a more embarrassing moment in her life and judging by Stephen's petrified expression, neither had he. Phaedre went back to the door, without looking at them, before she stopped again.

“Shall I come back later to help you get dressed, Miss Fraser?”

Brianna opened her mouth to answer, but Stephen was quicker and smirked. “Who said we needed clothes?”

Phaedre let out another squeal and left the room, hastily closing the door behind her. Brianna sighed again, as her lover laid back on the floor with a groan, taking the sheet off her hands to cover his face. “If one of my men had the audacity to barge into my cabin like this, he would end up alone on a sandbank.”

Brianna laughed and crawled under the sheet to join him. “If there is one thing that I have learned since I’m here, it is that the rich are absolutely incapable of performing basic tasks on their own: open the curtains, get dressed, wash, eat… Makes you wonder how they managed to survive for so long…”

“Promise me we'll never be that kind of people...”, Stephen muttered, stifling a yawn.

“Even if we tried to pass off as respectable people, poor Phaedre just found us naked on the floor, without being married… Believe me, our reputation in the Thirteen colonies has been forever tainted.”

Stephen smirked and straightened up just enough for his lips to brush past hers. “Good…”, he whispered before kissing her languidly. Brianna laughed against his mouth and he soon imitated her. They were still giggling like teenagers when the door swung open again and two footmen settled a tub in a corner of the room, filling it with hot water, along with a stack of brand new clothes for Stephen. Fortunately, the footmen made no comment and left the room discreetly, despite another loud growl from Stephen.

The bath was yet another opportunity to spend far too much time kissing and touching, and Brianna wondered how many hours would go by before someone got impatient and forced them out of the room. No matter how eager she was to return to the privacy of their cabin on the _Gloriana_ , there was something pleasant in this extravagant outlay of luxury, both cuddling in hot soapy water. As if they had won a weekend for two at a five star hotel on a lottery.

“I guess we can’t just sit here all day long...”, the pirate muttered, as Brianna whined dramatically like a spoiled little girl.

“You guessed right...”

She felt Stephen's bandaged fingers slide into her wet curls and closed her eyes. The water around them was getting cooler by every minute, as if to remind them that it was time to get back to reality.

“Roger and I have to tell you what's going to happen next, but… that doesn't mean you're not welcome here. We can stay as long as necessary for you to recover.”

The pirate cringed. “I am very grateful to your family for their hospitality… but I will feel better once I find my men and my ship. And once we are far from Carolina.” He looked down and Brianna turned her head towards him. “Will you come?”

She nodded with a gentle smile. “I've done everything I had to do here… and I think my dad and I… we need space… He has to get used to the idea that… you know…”

“That you’re living in sin with a worthless smuggler?”, he suggested.

“Yeah, that.”

He chuckled and his smile widened as she snuggled up against him again, shivering in the almost cold water. Silence fell briefly between them, until a detail came back to Stephen's memory. A detail that did not really match the young woman's desire to follow him across the seas. “Why were you in such a hurry to find your parents before January... When I bought you, you said it was a matter of life and death...”

Brianna's body tensed against his and he bitterly noted that she had not lost her habit of sorting her answers out in her mind. He gritted his teeth. Why all these secrets, now that they were supposed to trust each other completely?

“One day, I'll tell you everything...”, she whispered. “But not now… I just can’t.”

After a moment's hesitation, she turned to look into his green eyes and saw they had hardened. She was dying to confess her love to him, but if she said those fateful three words right after denying him the truth again, she feared he would feel manipulated. No, it was not the right time. She wanted her first “I love you” to be perfect. Leaning forward, she kissed his lips as softly as she could.

“Ready for another day with the Fraser-Camerons of River Run?”, she asked when she pulled back. He blinked, with a highly skeptical expression.

“Do we really have a choice?”

Brianna shook her head slowly, pursing her lips.

“Let's say I'm ready, then.”

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**What do you think of this chapter? The whole family’s reactions to Stephen, the argument between Bree and her parents, and especially the sweet sweet moments between our two lovers (they deserve it, after everything they've been through!)? My favorite part: when Stephen waves his hand to check that Jocasta is blind and Ulysses says he’s rude, hahahah. He really has no good manners... Anyway, I'm waiting for your comments and until next Monday, I wish you a good week !!**

**Xérès**


	25. An Chéad Nollaig Mhór

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Believe it or not, the fact that the 25 th chapter is a Christmas chapter is pure coincidence, haha. I hope you enjoy it !**

**Thank you all of you who read, commented and kudozed previous chapter!**

**oOo**

  1. _An Chéad Nollaig Mhór_ (The First Christmas)



When Brianna and Stephen finally left their room, breakfast time was long gone and the footmen were already busy setting the table for lunch. Now that he saw the Cameron house in broad daylight, his sharp smuggler's eye couldn't help but take a mental inventory of everything that could easily be stolen, while calculating the resale price.

“I know what you're thinking…”, Brianna mumbled as they entered a parlor decorated with a lot of China and gold trinkets. Stephen raised his eyebrows, inviting her to continue. “All this wealth in one house when so many families just starve out there… That’s indecent.”

“Um... _aye_ , that's exactly what I had in mind...”, the pirate quipped, studying a small bronze sculpture of a sitting dog more closely. “Do you know what's even more indecent? They are surrounded by valuables and they don't even look at them... I'm sure they wouldn't even notice if some of these disappeared...”

“It's worse than that: any display of admiration is considered rude… They just walk across every room haughtily, wrinkling their noses as if some bad smell was in the air…”, taunted Brianna before biting her lower lip. Her aunt's social dinners had definitely got on her nerves during her stay and she was glad to have someone to share her frustration with. Turning to him, she saw that Stephen was wearing the exact same expression she was talking about. “Oh, that’s it. You got it.”

“There _is_ a smell… Smells like… trouble…”, he muttered, as she followed his gaze. Outside the parlor, in the entrance hall, Jamie Fraser had just appeared. But when he saw Bonnet, wearing his brand new gentleman’s outfit, he scowled and left as quickly as he came in.

Brianna let out a heartbreaking sigh and sank into a chair. “I really have to talk to him…”

“Please do before tonight!”, Roger said as he entered the small living room, a large map rolled up under his arm.

Stephen frowned as the Scotsman settled into an armchair across from Brianna and placed his map on the table. “What's so special about tonight?”

“Well, it's Christmas Eve... For once I have a family to spend it with, I dinnae want to see anyone sulkin’ in a corner!”, Roger mocked, smiling when he saw Brianna roll her eyes. His parents had both died in World War II and young Roger had been taken in and raised by Reverend Wakefield in Inverness. Needless to say, he had spent more hours attending endless, boring masses than eating delicious meals and opening presents.

Brianna pursed her lips, thinking back to that sad 1968 New Year's Eve without any father or mother for the very first time, after Claire had travelled back in the eighteenth century. She hadn't been alone, however. Roger had been there to take care of her. “And the last Christmas we spent together wasn't exactly a happy one...”

“It wasn’t all bad either…”, Roger whispered, smiling softly at her. Brianna smiled back and Stephen frowned, suddenly starting to feel like a fifth wheel. Just like the day before, when he had seen them hug each other in the streets of Wilmington, he had the distinct impression that those two had a lot of history and the memory of a discussion in Philadelphia about a mysterious rejected suitor came back to his mind.

“Um… so, you brought the map?”, the young woman said to break the awkward silence that had settled in the room.

Roger began to stammer miserably. “The…? Oh, of course… the map!” He unrolled the parchment, wedging each end under a pair of trinkets and invited Stephen to sit on one of the remaining armchairs. The pirate did so and looked down at what was a relatively accurate representation of both Carolinas. “We are _here_ in River Run”, he began, pointing somewhere along the Cape Fear River near Cross Creek. “And the _Gloriana_ is waiting for ye... right there in Cheraw, on the other side of the South Carolina border. That’s the last navigable town on the Pee Dee River, but also the closest from here. Once ye cross the border, Lord Tryon will no longer be able to send his men after ye without complicating his relationship with the other governor.” As Stephen was not batting an eyelash, Roger went on: “After that, ye’ll just have to go down the river to Winyah Bay and… ye'll be… in the ocean again. Free to roam wherever ye please.”

Roger looked up from his map and cringed when he met Bonnet's piercing gaze. The Irishman was biting his lower lip stiffly, and stared at Roger without ever – _ever_ – blinking. So much so that the Scot started to feel extremely uncomfortable. He risked a glance at Brianna, who didn't seem to understand what was going on either, but when he turned back to Bonnet, the latter still hadn't moved. And he kept staring at him. Roger was mentally making a list of every blunt object he could use in case he was attacked when the pirate finally spoke.

“There's somethin’ I don't understand”, he cooed, narrowing his eyes. “My men have orders to wait for me at the nearest harbor... or, in the worst case, on Ocracoke...”

Roger squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, while beside Stephen, Brianna closed her eyes and braced herself to explain the inexplicable.

“Do you know what all of my men have in common, Mister um...”

“MacKenzie”, Roger replied immediately.

“Mr. MacKenzie”, Bonnet repeated slowly. He then raised his eyebrows, as if waiting for an answer to his rhetorical question. Roger opened his mouth, but the pirate didn’t wait for him to speak and he closed it again immediately.

“They respect me. They fear me as well. A little bit. And it is precisely because of this perfect combination of respect and fear that they _always_ follow my orders.” He had tapped the map with his fingers at the word ‘always’ and Roger swallowed loudly. “I therefore venture to hope that there is a very good reason for this unusual way of doing things, and I'm sure you will tell me what it is.” Roger turned his head slightly towards Brianna, but Stephen snapped his fingers in the air. “Look at _me_ , Mr. MacKenzie…”

“Would you please stop terrorizing him?”, Brianna sighed wearily, and Stephen almost regretted the blessed (albeit very brief) days when his acts of intimidation used to work on her too. “Ignore him, Roger. I was the one who asked O’Brien to move the _Gloriana_.”

Stephen sighed. She had completely ruined the semblance of power he was trying to have over MacKenzie, and he turned to her with a provocative smirk. “I'm still waiting for an explanation, darlin’.”

Brianna shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Your usual way of doing things was too risky and much too obvious. It never would have worked.”

“We've never had any problem before…”, Stephen blurted out with a cold smile. “This time wouldn’t have been any different.”

“Well, according to the information we had...”, Brianna began, turning to Roger for help, but the young man remained silent and she decided to put the blame on the only dead person who could not defend himself. “MacNamara had warned Tryon’s soldiers”, she concluded just when Roger recovered the use of speech to say “The red coats knew where the _Gloriana_ was.”

The pirate gritted his teeth, his icy gaze moving from one to the other in silence. Despite years of partnership, Stephen had never spoken to MacNamara about his way of escaping prison, let alone about Ocracoke. MacKenzie’s excuse was the most valid, but their little quid pro quo could only mean one thing: they were both lying. Moreover, Roger wore the exact same expression as Brianna when she chose to withhold part of the truth. And unfortunately for them, he knew this expression much too well. He was about to give them one last chance to be honest with him before he got angry, when Claire Fraser stormed into the living room with her healing gear.

“Mr. Bonnet, I would like to check on your wounds again and change your dressings, if you will sit down at this table…”, she announced before pulling up a chair for her patient.

Stephen stood up reluctantly. Brianna’s look of pure relief didn’t go unnoticed and he had the unpleasant feeling that the healer's arrival was not entirely a coincidence. As for Roger, he was rolling up his map carefully, avoiding the pirate's piercing irises.

“I need to find Jamie…”, Brianna muttered as she got up from her chair, soon imitated by Roger. A few seconds later, Stephen was left alone with Claire, already leaning on his right hand. After a few minutes of deafening silence, Mrs. Fraser gave him a sympathetic look.

“Give her a little time… You will have your explanations one of these days…”, she said in a soft voice, while applying an alcohol swab on one of his injured fingers.

“I don’t mind… I get it. I'm not the kind of man you can trust, after all…”, Stephen spat with a fake smile.

Claire shook her head and bent over her leather bag to take out some clean bandages, wrapped in a small pouch. “Brianna trusts you, Mr. Bonnet. Probably too much, if you ask me...” She tried to give him a stern look, but failed miserably. “If you're looking for a culprit, blame me. _She_ doesn't deserve it.”

“Which means?”

“My daughter has spent most of her life surrounded by secrets... I had shared some of them with my first husband, but in the end those secrets destroyed him. When I told Bree about them… she was lost. And suddenly, everything got… more complicated.” She paused for a moment to cut a bandage with her scissors, then went on: “The truth had her adoptive father suffer from alcohol addiction and melancholia, it destroyed our family and… I guess Brianna doesn’t want history to repeat itself with you.”

“I wish I were as sure of that as you are...”, Stephen mumbled before groaning in pain as Claire deliberately squeezed one of the bandages she was replacing.

“You are certainly used to decent people having a low opinion of you without even knowing you, Mr. Bonnet, but please do not include my daughter in this category.”

“What… ‘decent people’?”

Claire involuntarily laughed. There was something funny about the pirate's sarcastic tone, and she began to understand why Brianna had fallen for the man. “No, people who judge without knowing”, she clarified. “She saw something in you and she liked what she found. It's all that matters.”

Stephen looked down, but Claire knew she had won when a slight smile appeared on his thin lips. When he was finally able to leave the living room with his brand new bandages, no one was waiting for him in the hallway. Brianna was nowhere to be found, as was Roger, and even the house staff seemed to have disappeared. Still feeling like he was standing out like a sore thumb in this lavish house, Stephen went upstairs to see if Brianna was in her room. She wasn’t. Slowly, he crossed the room, smoothing out his pants with one hand. The fabric was as soft as silk and contrasted with the roughness of his hands, damaged by years of sailing and recent torture. Since they had left, the bed had been made and the tub removed. Everything was as spotless as when they arrived the day before.

Stopping by the window, he glanced through the glass and spotted Brianna and Roger in the garden below. They were walking slowly along the river, side by side. MacKenzie had his hands in his pockets, while Brianna was waving hers as she spoke. Stephen couldn't make out their faces from where he was, but he was pretty sure they were talking about what had just happened in the living room. The strange feeling in his stomach was back and it intensified when he saw them stop and come face to face. They exchanged a few more words, then Roger pulled Brianna against him and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Bonnet couldn't look away from the scene despite the pain it was inflicting on him, but strangely he was also unable to run down and snatch his sweet Brianna from his rival's clutches. As if their endless hug wasn't enough, Jamie Fraser chose that exact moment to appear and approach them. Stephen was only hoping for one thing: that the father would take MacKenzie away from his daughter and keep her at an appropriate distance. But instead, he put a friendly hand on Roger's shoulder and Brianna stepped aside to say a few words to him.

Stephen turned so abruptly from the window that he almost knocked over the pedestal table beside it. He clenched his fists with rage and winced when it brought back the pain in his fingertips. He had always known that no father in his right mind would give him his daughter, but he had cherished the hope that _this time_ it would be different. And maybe that was the real reason for his anger: he had allowed himself to hope. When he knew full well that disappointment was always waiting for him around the corner. He might have had a chance against Fraser alone, but with MacKenzie around, Brianna’s father had made his choice and he would stick to it. And Brianna wouldn't stand up to her family for long if all signs pointed to her ex-boyfriend. Like all women, she would choose the safest option and a comfortable future.

He couldn't give her any of this. At least not right away. He had always roamed the oceans, slept in taverns, never owned any land or house. Not that he couldn't afford it: he had earned quite a lot of money and gold over the years and with what was left of Bellamy's treasure, he could take a well-deserved retirement at only thirty-three years old. But Jamie Fraser did not know that. And even if he did, he would always consider this as dirty money, made out of illegal trafficking and looting. Not the kind of money he would want his precious daughter to live on.

Sitting on the window sill, he took some time to observe the large four-poster bed, the hangings, the Persian rugs and the majestic chandeliers in Brianna's room. But also the wardrobe in the opposite corner, in which he had seen a glimpse – when she had opened it in the morning – of a whole series of beautiful dresses. Even if she pretended not to want all of this luxury, she was much more comfortable with it than he was, and her upbringing allowed her not to stand out in this environment. She only wanted adventure because she was young and careless, but she would soon settle down and then, much more mundane concerns would take over. Entering good society, for example. And that, he wouldn’t be able to buy it even with all the gold from all the treasures in the world. By staying with him, she condemned herself to a life in exile, far from the colonies, from her family and fellow human beings. And even if she didn't realize it yet, she would eventually miss all of those things, no doubt.

Again he had to make a drastic decision. However, it seemed less difficult than last time. Brianna would be safe, surrounded by her family, in the arms of a man who still loved her dearly and knew how to care for her. As for himself, he knew what to expect. The loneliness, the visions, the inability to find comfort in other women’s arms… But all of this would be better than waking up next to her one day and only see regret in her deep blue eyes.

~o~

Stephen only realized he had fallen asleep when his eyelids fluttered and opened to the already dark room. He had laid down on the bed to think and must have dozed off without even realizing it. From downstairs, he heard loud voices and laughter, and he deduced that tensions within the Fraser family had eased while he was asleep. Good. All the more reason not to revive them by deciding to stay. He stood up slowly and ran a hand over his face, before readjusting his low ponytail.

As he went down the stairs, he heard Brianna's laughter in the dining room and paused for a moment to compose himself a polite smile before joining the rest of the family. The redhead was busy trying to secure long stockings to the mantelpiece, while her mother filled them with fruits and other treats. Shifting his gaze to the table, he noticed that the number of plates greatly exceeded that of the family members.

“Oh, you're awake!” With a wide smile, Brianna immediately dropped her socks into her cousin Ian's hands, to rush over to him. “I went upstairs to see how you were doing earlier, but you were sleeping so well...”

He nodded with an embarrassed smile and decided to change the subject. “Are we expecting guests?”, he asked, casting a suspicious glance at the table. He wasn't sure that bringing more strangers into the house was a good idea, as they were already wanted fugitives.

“Huh? Oh, that! Mama gave Jocasta a hard time and refused to be served today. So, we spent the afternoon preparing dinner and tonight we will _all_ eat at this table.” The young woman's smile widened and she put a hand on the pirate's chest as she moved closer to his face. “A minor revolution for River Run, a major victory for Claire Fraser.”

“I'm sorry I missed that…”, he quipped, before catching a sidelong glance from Jamie Fraser, sitting by the fireplace. “Have you been able to talk to your father?”

Brianna nodded and put her other hand on Stephen's chest, caressing the fabric with her fingertips. “He’s not a bad man, you know, he's just… He'll get used to it”, she concluded with a confident smile. “Anyway, he agreed to behave tonight. It's Christmas Eve and… _everyone I love_ is in these walls…” She had deliberately caressed his chest saying those words and Stephen felt his throat tighten. “Well, almost everyone... I wish you could have met Frank. He would have asked you a thousand questions and probably annoyed everyone with pirate stories... But I think you would have liked him.”

Stephen smirked. “At least one over two fathers would have enjoyed my company...”

Brianna chuckled and was about to kiss him before remembering where she was. Even though Jamie had agreed to call a truce, they’d better not get too far. Stephen must have sensed her embarrassment and his eyes darkened. “Oh… wait! Don’t move!”, she exclaimed, rushing for the stairs. “Could you please help me, mama?”

Claire sighed exasperatedly. “Bree, it's not midnight yet! We haven't even had dinner!”

“I don't care, I don't want to wait any longer!”, she barked from the first floor. Her mother sighed loudly again and followed her daughter, under the men’s curious gaze. Alerted by her niece’s shouting, Jocasta and Ulysses entered the dining room and the butler helped his mistress sit with infinite gentleness and patience; if Stephen had not been aware of the laws prohibiting all forms of love between slaves and owners, he would have thought they were an old couple, taking care of each other even after decades. Once Jocasta was comfortably seated in her chair, Ulysses left to look for Phaedre and the rest of the house staff. Everyone was gathered in the living room when mother and daughter reappeared, dragging huge jute bags behind them. Jamie immediately got up to help his wife, but Claire made him sit down again with a wave of her hand. Beside her, Brianna was beaming.

“Dinnae tell me ye did what I think ye did?”, Roger exclaimed with a small laugh.

“Hell yes, I did... I've even been setting this up for a very... very long time...”

Stephen had no idea what was going on and it reassured him to see he wasn't the only one. Except Brianna, her mother and Roger, everyone seemed completely lost.

Roger laughed again and shook his head. “Ye’re insane...”

“Shall we begin?”, Claire asked, casting a questioning glance at her daughter, who responded with a vigorous nod.

The bags were filled with boxes and packages of all shapes and sizes. Each came with a small piece of paper with the recipient's name on it. Out of respect for their host, Brianna placed her present on Jocasta's lap and handed another to Ulysses, who raised his eyebrows in astonishment. The butler first helped his mistress open the small box, then leaned into her ear to describe its content: a small golden bracelet embellished with rubies. Ulysses then discovered a pair of magnificent ceremonial gloves, embroidered with a calligraphed U. Jocasta looked enchanted by this attention and thanked Brianna under Jamie's dumbfounded gaze. That kind of jewelry was expensive and he was probably wondering where it came from. She had traded an emerald to pay for the gold, but the rubies came directly from Bellamy's treasure. As for the other gifts, she had bought them with a few additional gems...

As Claire handed Jamie, Ian, Phaedre and the footmen their gifts, Brianna pulled a relatively large hatbox from her bag, which she proudly handed to Stephen. “It's not much but I only had about two weeks between the moment I found out where you were and the moment we were finally able to get our hands on you... And we had quite a few other issues to deal with, as you can imagine.”

The pirate’s face at that moment was priceless. Various emotions passed in his eyes at a tremendous speed, until he finally mumbled: “I... I have nothing for you...”

“You are alive. Believe me, it's worth all the Christmas presents in the world…”

Again, the painful lump that had formed in his throat several times during the day reappeared and he looked down at the box to hide his confusion.

“My bag is empty…”, Claire announced, drawing Brianna's attention to her.

“Oh! Hold on…”

Brianna walked away to hand her mother a tiny box and a large rectangular box to Roger. Meanwhile, Ian was ecstatic over the long leather coat he had received while Jamie was looking emotionally at a silver belt buckle with the Frasers crest and their motto “Je suis prest”. When Brianna came back to him, Stephen had opened his box on a brand new tricorn, black and embroidered with gold thread.

“I thought that they would probably take yours away in prison…”, the young woman joked, watching for his reaction. A half-smile slipped onto the pirate's lips and he was about to thank her when she leaned over to his ear. “You should take a closer look at it… One gift may hide another…” Wiggling her eyebrows mysteriously, she walked away again towards her mother, who had just let out a cry of joy upon discovering a set of three graduated blown glass and metal syringes.

“H-how? Where?”, her mother stammered. She sorely missed modern glass syringes, as they were easier to sterilize and clean than full metal or – worse – wooden syringes.

“I drew a few sketches and found a glassblower in Wilmington… He didn't ask too many questions…”, she added in a low voice, while Claire hugged her tightly. When she finally let go, Brianna turned to Stephen and saw in his eyes that he had found her small surprise gift under the hat. A gold signet ring, engraved with an Irish clover. With the ring in one hand and the hat in the other, he lifted his bewildered face and Brianna brought her own hand to the emerald clover around her neck, smiling. The pain in Stephen's throat was now unbearable. Luckily for him, Brianna was distracted again. MacKenzie had just pulled out a small old-fashioned guitar – halfway between a ukulele and a lute – and was manipulating it with a blissful smile.

“You haven't sung or played an instrument since you arrived on this continent, Roger MacKenzie. I thought if I didn't do something quickly, you were going to explode.”

A shrilling laugh echoed in the room as Roger stood to lift Brianna up and spin her around like a rag doll. “Ye’re completely nuts, but it’s the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.”

Brianna waited for him to put her down and chuckled. “It's thanks to you and you alone that we're alive to celebrate...”, she whispered softly, so no one else could hear. “Compared to this, a guitar is a ridiculous gift.”

They exchanged a last smile and Brianna left to stand next to Stephen. His silence was strange but understandable. For someone who had never had a family, to find himself thrown into the hustle and bustle of a Christmas party, with unknown traditions, was certainly a shock. But something about him was bothering her. A hint of sadness, a latent melancholy. Nevertheless, he had put the signet ring on and gave her the sweetest of smiles. “Thank you.”

Blushing like a teenager, Brianna shrugged. “Merry Christmas, Captain Bonnet.”

~o~

“… What about Madagascar? Many pirates have taken refuge on Sainte-Marie Island, it's a bit like Tortuga but in the Indian Ocean… Oh, there are also a few islands off the coast of Costa Rica, with _a lot_ of forgotten treasures. It would be our chance to sail on the Pacific! And one thing’s for sure: Tryon will not look for us there…”

Brianna interrupted her monologue long enough to get rid of her corset with a satisfied sigh. Two steps behind her, Stephen was also taking his clothes off, in complete silence, and she bit her lip. He had been particularly quiet throughout dinner, despite everyone’s happy mood and Jamie's efforts to be courteous. Although he always reassured her with a smile whenever he met her inquiring gaze, Brianna sensed that something was wrong and she had a bad feeling. Maybe it was only exhaustion and the aftermath of the hell he had been through in prison, maybe she was having ideas... Half-naked, she pressed herself against his back and he jumped, as if he had even forgotten her presence.

“Or we could find some quiet place and stay there…”, she whispered, placing a few kisses on his shoulders.

“You mean like all those people taking roots on a piece of land until they die?”, he whispered, turning around, a smirk floating on his lips. The idea was quite pleasant but he didn’t want her to think he was becoming old and boring.

“How about… a piece of land with lots of treasures buried in it… That should keep us busy for a while…”

Again, he had that sad smile and Brianna suppressed a shudder of apprehension. Stephen's left hand slowly rose to her cheek and she briefly saw her signet ring glistening in the candlelight before she closed her eyes in delight against his palm.

For a moment, he envied Brianna for being so confident in herself and her choices. He himself had no idea what he wanted to do with his life right now. Live on the land like the people he had always despised, and take the risk of blaming her one day for this early retirement? Impossible. Take her to sea and put her in danger again, as had been the case since they knew each other? No way. Keep her with him until she finally disappears for good, tired of his hopeless way of life, to marry a boring rich heir? He’d rather die. Every option only strengthened the decision he had made that morning. Pick up his life where he left off, perhaps in a different part of the world, where the red coats would leave him alone, with new customers, new types of goods. Go back to what he knew. To a fate he would control perfectly.

“I don't know what I want…”, he breathed, pressing his forehead against hers. Which wasn't actually a lie... Doing what needed to be done and doing what he really wanted were two very different things.

Brianna's fingers slid through his hair and he savored the sensation, aware that this was maybe one of the last times. “We will figure it out together...”

Stephen didn't answer and captured Brianna’s lips, before sliding his hands around her bare waist. He had always been fascinated by the softness of her skin, the absence of flaws and imperfections, as if she had spent her entire life in a miraculous bath until the day they met. Of course, her back now bore the marks of the cat o’nine tails – a creepy souvenir from Sint-Eustatius – but after a month of living the high life in River Run, her skin was like velvet again.

A few moments later, comfortably settled in the soft bed, he entered her slowly without taking his eyes off her. Brianna was struggling to keep her own eyelids open, and it reminded him of the first time he had taken her. Right after she had confessed to him she had tried to run away. But today, her gaze was neither lascivious nor provocative. She was staring at him with a hint of concern, as though she was afraid he would disappear all of a sudden. She had probably sensed his confusion, suspected what was going on in his head. Like always. Fortunately, after a few minutes, pleasure got the better of her and with her eyes closed, she reached climax in his arms, as he reveled in the sensual vision of her parted lips, her breasts hardening with desire, and her messy hair on the mattress.

They stared at each other in silence for a long time, buried among the pillows and crumpled sheets. Brianna was exhausted but he had clearly seen from her tired features and her constantly fluttering eyelids, that she had been struggling to stay awake. Did she know he was leaving? Probably. Stephen had the unpleasant feeling that his decision was written all over his forehead, but it couldn’t be or else she would have tried to talk him out of it. When she finally fell asleep, he waited another hour without moving, saving in his memory every crazy curl, every freckle, every feature of her face. She would certainly be angry when she would wake up on her own, maybe she would even think about following him. But Mr. Fraser would surely stop her. He would talk her out of it. And MacKenzie would be there to comfort her. He would make her happy, that was for sure. He wasn't a bad lad. A tad boring, maybe, but a good man.

When the moon passed by their window, Brianna's breathing had changed its rhythm again. He had spent enough nights with her to know when he could move and get up without waking her. Part of him had hoped that _that_ night she would never sleep so soundly, thus dissuading him from fleeing like a thief. But fate had decided otherwise. One last look, one last hand in her hair...

And when he left River Run with all his meager possessions, it was as if he had never existed.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Sooooo, what did you think of this chapter? The awkward Roger/Stephen moments + Brianna who isn’t impressed at all anymore had me cracking up. What do you think will happen when Brianna wakes up in the morning? She’ll definitely be upset… Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this Christmas chapter and I wish you a wonderful week! See you next Monday!**

**Xérès**


	26. Níl Sé'n Lá

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**After a sweet Christmas with the family, Stephen sneaked off in the middle of the night and it will come as a blow for poor Brianna in the morning, no doubt! It was initially supposed to be the last, _but_ I had the unpleasant feeling that I hadn't told everything about them, so I decided to add 11 more chapters haha. Anyway, we’re still entering the last part of the story, less adventurous, but packed with revelations and feelings (and maybe also some difficult moments...). Hope you enjoy this chapter! **

**oOo**

  1. _Níl Sé'n Lá_ (It’s not yet day)



Half-asleep, Brianna felt an unpleasant coolness around her body and she shivered. Stephen had probably got up to steer and allow O’Brien to take a nap. In a few seconds, she would feel the _Gloriana_ gently rolling on the waves, perhaps hear an order barked by one of the crew's officers. _I wonder what Flanagan has prepared for us this morning_ …, she thought, her stomach rumbling loudly. But as her foggy brain slowly woke up, there was no sound. No roll. Only the cold and the absence of Stephen's body against hers.

The young woman sat up abruptly. Her room in River Run was still dark and she was alone. Her hand slid onto the mattress next to her. The sheets were icy cold and she felt her heart rate quicken. A few seconds later, she had put on a dressing gown and was running down the stairs of the still sleeping household. The bronze and gold clock in the hall showed half past five in the morning. Nothing in the living rooms, nor in the kitchens. Rushing to the service door that led to the back of the estate, she saw it was unlocked and without even taking the time to put some shoes on despite the almost freezing temperature, she rushed towards the stables. The groom was already busy delivering fresh hay to his animals and she quickened her pace. The man frowned at the sight of her inappropriate outfit, her bare feet and disheveled hair.

“What are you doing? You will catch your death out here, Mi-”

“Are your horses all here?”, she cut him off abruptly.

In other circumstances, he would have questioned such a lack of politeness from Mrs. Cameron's sweet young niece, but there was so much distress in her voice that he instantly knew something had upset her.

“Yes, all without exception. I just groomed them... Is there something wrong, Miss?”

 _He left on foot_ … Brianna didn't know if she should be happy about this or not. If he intended to walk to Cheraw, it would take him at least two entire days, assuming he would stop for the night. She had a chance to catch up with him if he didn't find a horse on the way. He had no warm clothes, however and although the days weren’t too cold, nights would be harsh. Weakened as he was, he would certainly be at risk of hypothermia.

“Miss?”, the groom insisted, giving her a worried look. Brianna jumped, as if she had forgotten his presence, and her lower lip quivered.

“Yes… I… thank you…”, she stammered, running back to the house. _Maybe he's just in another room, or gone for a walk_ … _Maybe he's had another nightmare?_ She mentally reviewed all the possibilities, but she knew full well that Stephen had sneaked out. His behavior from the day before, the way he had made love to her, everything fell into place and she had _sensed_ it. She had simply refused to believe it. As she ran, her anxiety was gradually giving way to anger. She couldn't help but think that Jamie's bad mood, as well as the luxury in which her family lived, had played their part in the pirate’s hasty departure. Knowing him, he had probably thought that he didn't deserve any of this, that he couldn't deprive her of a comfortable life, and a whole bunch of other nonsense that was just the product of his inferiority complex against the good people of this world.

She was boiling up with rage as she walked through the back door. There wasn’t anyone else in the kitchen, and she stopped for a moment to catch her breath. Tears threatened to stream down her cheeks and she gripped the edge of the table, digging her fingernails into the wood and breathing in deeply. _Why didn't I say anything? I saw the way he looked at me, I saw it all day long and I didn’t do shit!_ With an angry yell, she swept away what was on the table – an empty candlestick and a fruit platter. The candlestick hit the floor with a clang, while the porcelain platter shattered into a hundred pieces. It seemed to bring her out of her trance. Her vision blurred with tears and she fell on her knees, picking up the pieces with her trembling fingers. The kitchen door soon opened on Phaedre, alerted by the noise, and the young maid immediately bent down to help her.

“I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… I didn't mean to…”, Brianna stammered, but Phaedre put a soothing hand on her forearm.

“It's all right, Miss, it's all right...”

Brianna collapsed onto the cold kitchen floor and Phaedre asked her: “Would you like me to get Mr. Bonnet?”

“Do you know where he is?”, Brianna almost yelled, her eyes wide. Hopefully, she was all wrong. There hadn't been anything strange in Stephen's gaze, he hadn’t abandoned her and Phaedre would soon clear up the misunderstanding by telling her that he had just gone for a walk on the grounds. In the middle of the night. On December twenty-fifth. Yes, it had to be that.

“Well, in your room, I suppose?”, Phaedre suggested, no longer understanding what was going on. However, she knew something bad had happened and that her answer was not what Brianna had expected when the redhead closed her eyes and began to sob. Standing up to put the pieces of the platter into a bucket, Phaedre gave Brianna a sympathizing look. “I'll go get your mother.”

It was impossible to tell if the girl had heard her or not, but Phaedre disappeared anyway in the corridors, while Brianna stood up slowly, wiping her tears on her sleeve. There was no time to waste. She had to leave this morning if she wanted to reach the _Gloriana_ before him. She staggered back to her room and immediately walked over to her wardrobe. Taking the bag Stephen had given her in Wilmington, she threw it on the bed, wide open. She lined the bottom with her drawing material, her portrait gallery and other papers that were in her drawers, before spreading out on the bed all the clothes she had worn on the ship. She stuffed the summer petticoats into the bag, along with the light blouses, and was about to dress up when her parents burst into the bedroom.

“Bree…”, her mother whispered from the doorstep. Her mother’s soft, pitying tone made her clench her teeth, and she ignored her.

“I have to hurry, he can’t have made it far”, she said without turning around.

“Brianna…”

Her father's voice, this time. Deep and hoarse. She didn't want to listen to him. He would probably say he had been expecting this, that men like Stephen were unreliable, that she deserved better than a smuggler... But she wouldn’t listen. Not when she was deeply convinced that things could have been different if he had not been so stubborn.

“Ye couldnae expect this man to live an orderly life by yer side... The land isnae his world, just as the ocean isnae yers. He, for one, was clever enough to ken that…”, Jamie began.

Brianna abruptly tossed a pair of stockings into her bag and spun around. “How would you possibly know that the ocean is not my world? You’ve never known me anywhere other than on land!”

“Ye’re a fine young woman, _mo leannan_ , but-”

“I don't feel at home here!”, she interrupted, her voice breaking slightly. The sentence came as a blow to Jamie, and Claire looked down. Her mother didn't seem surprised at the news, but Brianna still thought she owed them both an explanation. “In Boston, everything had changed as well: Mom was gone and Frank…”, Brianna bit her lip, holding back her tears. “I hoped I would find a home here, I wanted to belong somewhere again. And it happened... but not in the way I expected.”

Jamie looked down too and Brianna sighed.

“I would have loved to be able to be with him _and_ with you... and I hope it will be possible someday. But right now, I have to find him before he is gone for good.”

Silence fell again in the room and Brianna saw her father raise an inquiring glance in Claire's direction and his wife smiled weakly. “I would be a hypocrite if I kept her from giving up everything for a man… when I did exactly the same thing. Twice.”

Jamie smiled at the remark and nodded silently. Too absorbed in their conversation to notice someone was approaching, they jumped when Jocasta, in her nightgown and nightcap with Ulysses by her side, cleared her throat in the hallway. Brianna immediately stiffened at the thought of having to convince a third person to let her go.

“May I suggest you, my niece, to take some of your new dresses with you? Phaedre will pack them for you... I would feel better if you left this house with at least _one_ proper attire...”, Jocasta said with her legendary aristocratic composure.

Brianna blinked several times. She clearly hadn't expected this from the oldest member of the family. “Why… Why are you not trying to stop me?”

Jocasta's empty gaze seemed to perk up slightly. “I don't have my eyes anymore, lass, but Ulysses knows how to replace them perfectly. According to him, you have never been so radiant than since Mr. Bonnet came to River Run.” Brianna smiled at the butler, who nodded silently. “He also told me about the way he looked at you...”

Suddenly, something seemed to tickle the old lady's keen hearing and she turned her head slightly.

“It is extremely rude to eavesdrop, Mr. MacKenzie. You too, Ian, your mother would certainly not appreciate this...”

Two shadows moved in the depths of the corridor and soon, Roger and Ian appeared in the doorway.

“I'm sorry, Aunt Jocasta…”, Ian stammered.

“It's nothing. Go to the kitchen and ask them to prepare some food to take for the journey…”

Ian nodded and left without further ado.

“I didn't expect you to understand…”, Brianna began hesitantly.

“My sister Ellen followed her heart as well. She left everything and eloped with a man despite the family’s opposition…”, Jocasta went on with a gentle smile, reaching out towards where she sensed that Jamie was standing. The Scotsman immediately took her hands in his. “A questionable decision, but one that gave me a brave nephew... and a grandniece, who is just as brave as he is.”

Brianna felt her cheeks flush and she wished she could hug the old lady, twentieth century style. But she just warmly thanked her aunt as Phaedre made her way into the bedroom, with large, finely-worked leather bags.

“We'll leave you to get prepared...”, Jocasta said, as she motioned for Ulysses to lead her downstairs. “Jamie, would you please come with me? I have something to show you.”

After a moment's hesitation, the Scotsman complied and followed his aunt down the stairs, while Claire whispered to Brianna that she would have to speak to her in private a little while later. Brianna nodded and closed the door to take off her nightgown and get dressed. The feeling of putting on her pants again, a long-sleeved blouse and her waist cincher was indescribable. With her long leather coat and scarf bought in Philadelphia, she could travel all the way to Cheraw without fearing the cold. Behind her, Phaedre was packing her most beautiful dresses, but Brianna didn't have the courage to tell her that she would certainly never need them. It was better not to disagree with Jocasta Cameron, anyway…

When her bags were full, Brianna waited for Phaedre to leave the room before leaning under her bed to get a wooden box, in which she had kept the handfuls of gems she had stolen from the treasure cave. She took out three full leather purses, slipped them into her satchel, and put the fourth aside before putting on her coat.  
When she got to the first floor, she felt a lump in her throat at the sight of her family gathered in the hall. Ian was also warmly dressed and looked ready to go. Jamie must have seen Brianna's startled gaze, as he came to meet her with a sad smile.

“Ian will ride with ye to Cheraw, he kens the road and will bring yer horse back…” His hand rose to his daughter's cheek. “I'm afraid I willnae have the strength to let ye get on this ship if I come with ye…”

“As soon as we find a quiet place to stay, I'll write to you… and maybe you can come over one of these days?”, she offered, her eyes shining. Jamie nodded, his jaw clenched, and after a long hug Brianna turned to Roger.  
The young man was staring at her with a mixture of affection, pride and a hint of disappointment to see her leave, but he forced himself to smile when she stood in front of him and took his hands.

“I owe you so much that I don't even know where to start…”, she stammered, tears welling up again. “I can't imagine how you must feel… To have come all this way for me and…” _Go back on your own_ , she finished internally, unable to say it out loud. But Roger got the message.

“I would do it again if I had to...”

“Don’t!”, Brianna exclaimed, startling him. “I mean… I'm glad you saved our lives this time… But when you come home, if you find more documents like this one… Don't take any more risks.” Roger opened his mouth to protest and she cut him short. “Promise me.”

The young man must have been on the verge of tears too, for his voice was barely louder than a strangled whisper. “Why?”

The question was rhetorical; he knew the answer. They had broached the subject too many times in the past two years. If he spent his life looking for someone who’s been dead for two hundred years in his books and documents, he would end up alone and broken. As Frank had been when he had discovered that Claire would eventually abandon him and go back in time one day or another.

“You know why…”, Brianna breathed, hugging him.

“D’ye allow me to wait four or five days, in case yer bloody Irishman has set sail before ye arrive?”, he quipped while hugging her back.

Brianna laughed, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Five days. Not a day more.”

“Deal.” They pulled away from each other, crying and chuckling at the same time, before Roger added in a low voice. “Yer passport and yer wallet are at my house, if ye ever decide to come back. I went to pick them up at yer hotel in Inverness.”

Brianna nodded and saw Jamie approach her again, holding something in his hands. It was a long flintlock pistol, whose barrel was tucked in a holster attached to a thin leather belt, bearing the Cameron crest. A small satchel was attached to the other side, containing gunpowder and ammunition.

“It belonged to my late husband...”, Jocasta clarified as Brianna grabbed the gun and belt with round eyes. “Take it. The roads are not safe for a young woman.”

“I’ve heard ye can also use it against Irish heartbreakers...”, Jamie grumbled and despite his smirk, Brianna knew he was only half-kidding. Once the gun was around her waist, it was her mother's turn to say goodbye to her and tears came up so fast in both women’s eyes that they were at first unable to utter a single word.

“I won't be very far…”, Brianna muttered as she hugged her mother. “Closer than if I went back to… well, you know.”

“I know…”

“You could come and see us... and if something bad happened to our dear governor, we could even come back here...”

Claire pulled away just enough to look her daughter in the eyes and tucked a red curl behind her ear. “You know I don't like it when you wish misfortune upon others...”, she scolded. “But in his case, I will make an exception.”

The redhead let out a laugh and reached into her coat pocket to pull out the fourth purse of gems. Claire frowned as she opened it and stifled a cry of surprise.

“There is enough to build another house if yours burns down. You should also save one or two, in case you need to go… home someday.”

“No, Bree, you need them more than I do…”, her mother protested, but Brianna shook her head.

“I have three other purses like this one… and gold is not exactly a scarce commodity anymore on the _Gloriana_.”

Claire nodded and glanced discreetly at the other members of the family. They needed to get away from them if she wanted to speak freely to her daughter. Taking Brianna by the hand, she led her away from prying ears.

~o~

The sun was barely rising when Brianna and Ian darted off on the road to Cheraw. It would take them about fifteen hours to reach the city, not including night and rest times for their horses. They hoped to find Stephen’s tracks on the way and reach Cheraw together, or to get to the _Gloriana_ before him, praying that he hadn’t found a horse as well. Brianna feared this last possibility as much as she hoped for it. The road to Cheraw ran through a vast forest that only became less compact around Rockingham, about 55 miles away from River Run. The mere idea of imagining Stephen walking alone in that green hell terrified her.

She also had no idea how much time had passed between the moment he had sneaked out and the moment she woke up alone in her room. Maybe two, three... four hours? Not much more, anyway, as they had gone to bed shortly after midnight. He was therefore a maximum of four hours ahead of them, maybe ten miles. Twenty if he had found a horse somewhere. As they crossed the great plains that surrounded the plantation, Brianna’s eyes scanned the area, looking for the slightest human figure, but the peaceful moor was deserted. And the pirate hadn't left a single trace, probably taking care to avoid puddles of mud and loose soil.

After two hours at a trot, they arrived at the edge of the forest and Brianna felt her heart sink. From now on, and until they reached Rockingham, the view would not be so clear and the risk of running into wild animals or ill-intentioned humans would increase. They would also get closer to the Catawba’s territory, and although the tribe was generally peaceful and would side with George Washington in the War of Independence, Brianna did not want to lead to misunderstanding by entering their lands.

Now that the vegetation had swallowed them up, the perpetually identical landscape made the journey longer and more distressing, and the next two hours seemed to stretch endlessly. Every noise in the undergrowth, every quivering fern, every massive trunk seemed to conceal a potential predator and the horses began to snort nervously.

“There's a water source around here!”, Ian called, craning his neck to get a better view. “Let's stop for a moment...”

Brianna wrinkled her nose, but followed his directions. She was not too keen on the idea of stopping in the middle of the forest, at the mercy of its inhabitants, but they would not get out of the trees before the end of the day and they had to let their mounts drink. Hopping off her horse, Brianna led it to the brook and the animal dipped its muzzle into the cool water. She was brooding, staring into the distance, when Ian put a soothing hand on her left arm.

“We will find him, cousin...”

“We haven't seen the slightest foot or hoof print since we left...”

“He's a smuggler… He knows how to be discreet!”, the young man joked, drawing a smile from Brianna. “Maybe he took the other road. It is longer but it goes south of the forest…”

Ian untied one of the bags on his horse's rump and pulled out two apples, tossing one at his cousin.

“I have to say I'm a little jealous…”, he went on after taking a bite. Brianna dropped onto the roots of a large tree and raised her eyebrows. “I would be happy to have someone who loves me the way you love him. Someone who would be willing to leave everything behind for me… It must be nice.”

“Not that much, since he chose to run away from me…”, she grumbled against her apple.

“I don't think he was running away from _you_ , specifically…” Ian bit into his apple again and frowned for a moment, as if he was thinking intently. “Some people are afraid of change. When something turns their life upside down... even in a good way... they feel compelled to go back to what they know best.”

She had indeed turned his life upside down. Before he bought her in Kingston, Stephen Bonnet had a prosperous business, with regular customers paying cash on the barrelhead. In a few months, she had questioned his sovereign authority aboard the _Gloriana_ , revealed some of his weaknesses to his crew, destroyed his partnership with one of the most powerful mobsters in Pennsylvania. He had been arrested and tortured because of her, and was now a wanted man. _He already was a wanted man. This isn't much of a change, actually_ …, she thought, wincing.

“Can you imagine?”, Ian went on, unaware of his cousin’s internal debate. “Spending a lifetime on a ship, being arrested and sent to jail, and then suddenly celebrating Christmas at Aunt Jocasta's... I would probably have run away too!”

Brianna's eyelids fluttered, as if Ian's last remark had brought her out of her trance. “But… why?”

The young man’s eyes widened, as if the answer was obvious. “He saw you in your element, surrounded by family and feeling… comfortable. When you were on his ship, in his environment and under his command, it was probably easy for him to impress you. But in River Run, he must have thought that he would never be able to give you that kind of life and that you would eventually… lose interest in him?”

“Do I look so shallow to you??”

Ian quickly shook his head. “No, but you are… a gir-woman! A woman. And women need comfort, nice houses… not a ship and dangers lurking in every corner…” As Brianna narrowed her eyes in annoyance, he let out a nervous laugh and shrugged. “All right, maybe you and Auntie Claire are the exceptions that prove the rule.”

The redhead gave a long sigh and continued to eat her apple in silence. She found it hard to admit, but Ian was certainly right and she blamed herself even more for not asking Stephen the right questions before it was too late. But she wouldn't make that mistake again. She would make him swear never to hide his feelings from her. Or sneak off like a thief in the middle of the night.

“I hope one day he finally feels worthy of you, cousin.”

A gentle smile spread across Brianna's lips. “He is. He doesn't see it, but he is.”

The sun had already set when they finally reached Rockingham. They had asked a few passers-by about a blond man wearing a brand new black tricorn, but no one seemed to have seen an Irishman in ages around here. They ended up taking a room in a tavern and Brianna dropped fully clothed onto the bed, praying that Stephen had found a way to shelter from the freezing temperature and the wind that had started blowing outside. The next morning, they would leave Rockingham and travel the last thirty miles to Cheraw. Hoping that the _Gloriana_ would be there.

~o~

“Here we are, mate!”

Stephen jumped and opened his eyes, only realizing he had fallen asleep now that he was awake. It was a miracle he had managed to doze off despite the bumps in the road and the infernal din of the cart and the two horses pulling it. With a quick glance, he checked that the man who had picked him up on the side of the southern road, had not stolen his meager possessions, but his tricorn was still on his head and his signet ring around his finger. Even if he seemed kind, the man had kept eyeing his hands the entire time he had been awake and it certainly wasn't because of his bandages.

Rubbing his eyes, he took a look around. Cheraw was a tiny town along the Pee Dee River. The church had been completed just a few weeks earlier and was not yet in service. And the harbor, if you could call it that, only contained a few wooden pontoons hastily erected for a river trade that was still taking its first faltering steps. The _Gloriana_ was there, moored at the far end of the harbor, but even if it was the biggest ship around, passers-by did not seem to take much interest in it. Probably because it had been there long enough to be part of the scenery.

Stephen jumped out of the cart and was about to walk away when his fellow traveler cleared his throat loudly, as if to remind him of something. The pirate almost rolled his eyes and cursed his gentleman's attire, which was surely responsible for the impudence with which the peasant dared to ask for a contribution for helping him. _If I had my usual clothes, he wouldn’t have let me hop in, though_ …, he said to himself as he saw the man glance again at his left hand and more precisely Brianna’s gift on his ring finger. _Over my dead body, you bloody vulture_ … He gestured towards his belt to take his knife and give him a piece of his mind, before remembering that he had no weapons left since his arrest. And zero credibility in that outfit. He let out a long sigh and decided, for once, that he would let it pass. Now was not the time to draw attention to himself. Shoving three fingers into his mouth under the man’s dumbfounded gaze, he dislodged a tiny red diamond stuck between two molars, which he always kept there for desperate situations. He quickly dried it against his sleeve and tossed it to the peasant, who caught it with a satisfied smile.

“Thank you very much, Sir! May Heaven reward you!”

“Right...”, he muttered, turning away from the cart to approach the _Gloriana_. The mere sight of the ship was enough to bring a smile back to his lips. The sun was already setting and only a few sailors, fishermen and slaves were still walking around the almost deserted streets. He could already see a few men on the deck, lighting lanterns for the night. With any luck, Flanagan would probably serve dinner soon. After three days of scouring the countryside on foot and in a cart, he was exhausted, hungry, and only longed for a good meal and a comfortable bed. _Alone_ , he thought with a painful sensation in his chest. But it was better this way. For her and for her family.

“Oh, good evening, _Sir_!”, a voice said a few yards away near the dock. Two of his sailors were watching him, leaning against a wooden fence, their elbows casually resting on it. The one who had spoken was staring at him with a smirk, while the other yelled “Good evening, _Mister_ Bonnet” in an unnecessarily loud voice, as if he was trying to round up every English soldier for two hundred miles around. The pirate gave them a suspicious look, but the two sailors chuckled like teenagers and he blamed it on his ridiculous outfit again. “Do I really have to start by reminding you of some basic rules of salute and respect for hierarchy, Mr. Lowett?”

Hearing his voice, a few faces appeared along the railing and this time there was a concert of whispers and mocking grins. “Captain! Captain, he’s here!”, said Jimmy's cheerful voice from the deck. Stephen's eyes almost popped out of their sockets as he saw the young boy speak to someone behind him on the ship, and he felt is blood run cold with anger. Great, O'Brien had been elected captain during his absence… _Here_ _I was, so happy to be back… Those ungrateful bastards_ … But a few nervous laughs were heard again and Lowett wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, chuckling.  
Stephen's gait, which had been quite normal getting out of the cart, suddenly turned into that of a gruff bear and he got on the ship, frowning and ready to fight the traitor who had shamefully dethroned him. He had barely taken a few steps on deck when Murphy appeared out of nowhere and stood in front of him, eyes shining with emotion and hesitating between a manly hug and a solemn salute. _Well, at least someone is happy to see me_ , he thought as the sight of his old carpenter brought his anger down a notch.

“Welcome home, lad…”, the old man whispered, clumsily patting his forearm. Almost ashamed of his angry thoughts, Stephen nodded and a smile appeared on his face when he saw Jimmy run to greet him.

“Where's O’Brien?”, the pirate said, narrowing his eyes and the carpenter winced as Jimmy pointed a finger behind him on the steerage.

“Right there with the captain!”

 _What?_ Stephen turned, finally discovering who had the audacity to relieve him of his duties, and felt his heart skip a beat. Three people stood side by side a few feet away: a smirking O’Brien, with his hands casually tucked in his pockets. Boyle, who looked like he was putting a real effort to keep a straight face. And between them, the one he thought snuggled up in her mother's – or MacKenzie's – arms crying her heart out: Brianna, in her long leather coat and men’s trousers. Despite the setting sun, he could see a flintlock pistol at her belt, whose metallic luster almost equaled the glint of annoyance in her blue eyes. She had lifted her chin up and crossed her hands behind her lower back in order to appear more imposing, but despite her best efforts to put on a stern face, a twitch of her lips betrayed her desire to smile.

She hadn't understood why he had left. How could she, given that he had been unable to say it to her face? He considered doing it, here and now. Tell her he was afraid she would regret the time spent by his side. How he felt unable to offer her the life she deserved. Tell her he refused to put her in danger again... But before he could take a decision, she opened her mouth and barked without taking her eyes off him:

“Mr. Boyle?”

“Yes, Captain!”, the sailor answered under Bonnet's dumbfounded gaze. Brianna seemed to revel in the Irishman's disbelief for a moment and her lip twitched again.

“What is the appropriate punishment for a sailor deserting his post?” Brianna leaned forward a little, her eyes still on Stephen. “Yes, Mr. Bonnet, three days ago you abandoned your post... and thereby _me_.”

“I believe it is forty lashes, Captain”, Boyle replied with a smirk.

Brianna quickly turned her head towards him and her eyes widened. “Forty lashes? Can't we just... give him lines to write or tie him to his bunk?”, she whispered, as Stephen slowly recovered from the shock of the announcement.

“I must have a few chains in a hold somewhere, Captain…”, Doherty quipped before abruptly closing his mouth when Stephen gave him a nasty look, as if he was choking on a red chilli pepper.

“All right… well… let's say… I’ll let it pass this time”, Brianna said loudly, before turning to the first mate. “I have the right to do that, haven’t I?”

“’Tis you who commands, Captain Fraser…”, O’Brien drawled. In front of them, Bonnet was beginning to relax. He was relieved to see that O’Brien, his most loyal sailor, had not betrayed him to take hold of the _Gloriana_ in his absence. Brianna got closer to him and her stern expression gave way to something softer. Sadder, as well.

“Don't you ever do that to me again… Promise me”, she whispered, raising a hand to stroke the pirate's cheek. Around them, the sailors dispersed in silence, to give them some privacy.

“How can you be so sure you won't regret it?”

“Tying you up? If you insist, I can send Doherty to get those chains…”

Stephen let out a chuckle. “I was talking about your decision to stay with me.”

“I don't know…”, she admitted with a painful smile. “The only thing I know for sure is that _right now_ I want to be with you.”

“I have nothing more to offer you than this ship and the loot it contains.”

“Technically speaking, _I_ have nothing more to offer _you_ than this ship and the loot it contains”, Brianna retorted before biting her lip. “I'm still the acting captain, until you officially reclaim your title.”

“Who had this crazy idea?”

“O’Brien.” The young woman chuckled and lowered her tone. “He was too afraid to disobey your orders.”

“A wise man, that one...”

They exchanged a look and Stephen couldn't help but pull her against him by the hips. They were so close their noses almost touched and he saw Brianna's lips part, ready to kiss him.

“We won’t be back in Carolina anytime soon… Are you sure that's what you want?”

Brianna nodded and he analyzed her for a few more seconds, looking for the slightest hint of doubt. But there was none. She would stay. Whatever he did, she would follow him. Perhaps her fascination for him would eventually fade away over time and she would leave? He would definitely be in agony, if that day ever came. Maybe he wouldn't even survive. That thought had seemed like an insuperable obstacle when they were in River Run, with Jamie Fraser's constant suspicious gaze on him. But now that they were back on his galleon, on familiar ground, her body pressed against his, it was a risk he was willing to take.

“Alright… do we have to hold a vote, or is the acting captain willing to give Stephen Bonnet what is Stephen Bonnet’s?”, he said ironically, leaning a little more towards the young woman's lips.

“You can always try to start a mutiny... But I have to warn you...”

Stephen raised his eyebrows, impatiently waiting for her to finish her sentence so he could take possession of her mouth.

“I am armed and dangerous...”, she whispered. And before he had a chance to retort, she closed the few millimeters between them and kissed him passionately.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**What did you think of this chapter? The Fraser's reaction? Brianna and Roger’s last talk? What do you think Claire wanted to say to Brianna in private? I also hope you were entertained by Stephen's return on board (the sailors definitely had a good laugh xD). Anyway, I wish you a great week and see you next Monday!**

**Xérès**


	27. Grá dom Leonadh

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Brianna and Stephen are reunited again and they can pick up their life where they left off. Or… not. Someone seems to have a hard time getting over his trauma...**

**Thank you all of you who read, commented and kudozed last chapter!**

**oOo**

  1. _Grá dom Leonadh_ (Falling Slowly)



Stephen narrowed his eyes and winced in a desperate attempt to relax the muscles in his face. Tiredness weighed down his eyelids, stiffened his cheeks, and he was tempted for a moment to pinch himself. Usually, he would have given the helm to O’Brien or the apprentice helmsman, but the mere thought of it made him nervous. Instead, he glanced briefly at the front of the _Gloriana_ , where Brianna was propped up against the rail, with her hair blowing in the breeze and a blissful smile on her face.

He still couldn't believe she had left everything for him and although it had been more than two days since they had made their way down the Pee Dee River to Winyah Bay and the ocean, he kept glancing at her every once in a while. As if to make sure the previous thousand times weren't a dream. He had been surprised at first by this new compulsive habit. There had been no warning signs in River Run… But he had come to understand what had triggered the phenomenon: his return aboard the _Gloriana_. His return to reality. The torture, the jail, the Regulators, their incredible escape, the few days spent in luxury, all of this had been too far from his daily life and the most primitive part of his brain had taken over. Now that this part was getting a well-deserved rest, the other was back into action. But with a few after-effects...

Steering the ship was his most effective escape hatch. As long as his mind was focused on the ocean, the movements of the wheel, and the orders to be given, he was able to push away _the other thoughts_. Until exhaustion got the better of him. And he was back in Hell again. He had held out for the first few days, alternately steering and inspecting the ship, but his whole body was screaming its urgent need for sleep.

The dry, sore eyes were one of the first signs. Then came the nodding of the head, the loss of balance. Until he finally abdicated and dragged himself to his bunk, under Brianna's worried gaze. _Brianna! Where is she?_ Another glance. Still against the rail. Good.

“You have been steering all night, Captain...”

O’Brien. Again. Stephen had almost come to hate his voice. He could hear the reproach in his tone. The pity too. God knew what Brianna had told him to justify his strange behavior.

“I'm fine”, he growled, straightening up. But the superhuman effort he had to make to open his eyelids did not fool anyone. Behind him, O’Brien slowly shook his head and walked away again, aware that there was little he could do besides knocking him out and dragging him to bed. Stephen waited until the sound of his boots had died down to rub his eyes with a weary hand. When he opened them again, the sun seemed to dazzle him a little more than the previous minute and he frowned.

The ocean had disappeared all around him, as had the sails and the deck. Instead, a vast, bright green meadow stretched out before his eyes, and he recognized the place instantly. If he walked straight ahead, he would get to a wooden house surrounded by huge trees. With chirping birds all over the place.

“Hey, you! Pick up those ropes! Do you want someone to fall and break his neck?”

Stephen jumped, his forehead almost hitting one of the steering wheel handles. O’Donnell, the boatswain, had just yelled at one of the sailors a few yards away, brutally pulling him from his daydream. _Damn_ …, Stephen growled inwardly, rubbing his face again. Luckily for him, no one seemed to have noticed he had blanked out. For a moment, he was back _there_. He had to be a little more careful if he didn't want to fall and rotate the wheel in the wrong direction.

However, it didn’t take more than ten minutes before he was in the tall grass again. Something soft and warm was under his right hand and he stroked it with a smile. The thin blond hair slipped between his fingers like silk yarn, but the small head soon ran away at full speed towards the house. He was about to follow, as he always did, when he felt cold water flow through the fabric that covered his face and he began to cough, spit, trying to keep the liquid from entering his throat, his nostrils...

“Stephen!”

A hand violently shook his shoulder and his head jerked back up. He had nosedived again, but this time Brianna was by his side, staring at him with a mix of worry and anger. O’Brien was holding the helm with one hand, with a scowl on his face. It was a miracle that he had managed to stay on his feet throughout his dream...

“You need to sleep…”, she whispered, pulling him gently by the arm. “Come on…”

He was tempted to protest but several sailors had interrupted their task to look at him and he understood from their grim expressions that if he did not recover quickly, he would eventually be declared unfit for work and replaced. So he let himself be carried away without flinching, as he tried not to think about what was waiting for him in his sleep. The nightmares left him no respite, despite Brianna's best efforts to calm him down. _Brianna? Where is she?_ One look to the left. _Right there_. _Good_.

Barely conscious on the way to his cabin, he collapsed on the bunk but he could already feel the anxiety build up in his chest. Brianna took off her coat and immediately laid down beside him, resting her palm against his heart as had become her custom lately. The organ was probably racing again as her face darkened and she pulled him a little closer to her. Sleep was taking over him but his subconscious was still fighting; his body jerked violently, delaying his slumber for a few more minutes.

“Shhhh…”, Brianna breathed, stroking his cheek. She saw him glance briefly at her in alarm, as if he was making sure she was there, then relax again. His heartbeat soon grew slower and more regular, and the young woman allowed herself a long sigh of relief. Unaware that a nightmare was already playing behind the pirate's eyelids.

The small blond head was running in the fields again and this time he followed it. At footpace, first, then at a gentle trot. But very soon he had to run to catch up with the tiny figure he could only see here and there, when the tall grass was less dense. When he finally emerged from the vegetation, he grabbed the little runaway by the waist and threw him in the air. The child let out a shrill cry of joy, before he fell back safely in his father’s arms. A few yards away, Brianna approached, her dress billowing in the wind and he smiled at her. She leaned towards him and he saw her face move closer to his, begging for a kiss. But a couple of seconds before their lips met, a painful expression distorted Bree's face. Her eyes filled with tears and she took Stephen's face in her hands. “He's coming…”, she whispered, shaking.

The ropes around his hands bit into the flesh, already damaged by days of abuse, and Stephen had come to the point where he was considering rubbing his wrists together until he slit his veins. But he already knew that Tryon wouldn't let him die. Not before he had what he wanted. The door hinges creaked for the third time that day. After the water came the sea urchins. After the sea urchins came the beating. This time, it was the beating. As always, Tryon entered first and sat down in his usual chair. Surprisingly, however, the colossus who usually beat Stephen to a pulp was not there. Not that he was complaining. But he had learned the hard way that a change in Lord Tryon's routine was not necessarily a good sign.

“I have excellent news for you, my dear Captain Bonnet...”, the governor smirked.

“Don't tell me…” His own voice was hoarse. Ironically, despite the dozens of gallons of water poured down his throat every day, he was thirsty. “You caught some disgusting disease and I’ll finally have some peace and quiet?”

Tryon's smile widened and he even chuckled a little bit. Over time, he had learned to appreciate the pirate's retorts. Especially when they were becoming less and less clever. He was faltering.

“Almost!” He snapped his fingers and there was movement in the hallway. Stephen looked up, expecting to see a new instrument of torture, but it was even worse than that... Brianna appeared, dragged by two sinister-looking soldiers. Her big, terrified blue eyes searched the surrounding darkness and she let out a cry of despair as they rested on Stephen, strapped to his chair. No… She couldn't be here. He had just left her, she was safe at home, on the meadow… With their son…

Unaware that none of this made sense, Stephen shifted in his chair, desperately trying to free himself. But nothing would cut through those damn ropes, Tryon continued to smile like an idiot, and he saw the soldiers’ hands venture under Brianna's clothes, as she howled in rage and terror.

“You almost gave the right answer…”, the governor casually went on, his chin on his palm and his elbow resting comfortably on the table. “Sure enough I caught something, or rather someone, and you _will_ finally have some peace and quiet, as you say.”

His detached, almost joyful tone contrasted with Brianna's heart-rending howls as the soldiers assaulted her, laughing, while their faces were becoming darker and blurred. Tryon got up from his chair and addressed someone behind his back. “I don't need him anymore… Get rid of him.”

Near the entrance, the sound of a cloth being torn told him that Brianna had just lost a garment. His hands began to pull harder and harder on the ropes and he let out a hoarse cry, promising eternal torments of Hell to anyone who touched a single hair on her head. But his threats were ignored and as he tried to free himself again, a muscular arm popped out of nowhere and pulled his head back. A sharp razor blade slid against his throat, cutting through the skin, vocal cords and arteries. A filthy gurgling sound escaped the wound and Tryon's laughter rose louder in the cell.

Stephen woke up screaming, both hands pressed against his throat… But there was no wound there. A movement on the mattress startled him but it was only Brianna, who had awoken with a start as well and stood up to force him to lie down and take deep breaths.

“The… the lad… where is our wee lad…”, he gasped, scanning the cabin around him.

Brianna opened her eyes wide. She had no clue what he was talking about and he remembered after a few seconds that the meadow, the house, the child were only a construction of his imagination, a defense mechanism that had helped him survive the torture. Sometimes enough to believe that everything was true. But he couldn’t figure out why these images came back to haunt him now he was safe...

“I… I had a nightmare…”, he said unnecessarily to Brianna, even if she had not asked for any explanation.

The young woman gently pulled a blanket up over the pirate's chest and rested her head on the pillow, stroking the scar on his cheek. If only Claire had been there… She surely had some herbs that would allow him to sleep for a few hours, but they would have to do without it. Without sleeping pills, without psychotherapy, without anxiolytics… the hard, eighteenth century way. With the significant risk that the situation would never improve. She suppressed a shiver as she wondered how long the human body could last without getting any actual sleep.

“You can tell me about it, if you-”

“It’s nothing”, he interrupted abruptly, as he did every time she tried to learn a little more about his night terrors. He refused to tell her that the thought of her falling into Tryon's hands haunted him. He did not want her to know that he saw her being assaulted and raped by soldiers with inhuman faces. And he would never admit that the only way he had managed to stay sane was to imagine a life on the land with her and that tiny child he was throwing in the air. He suddenly felt old and worn out. He would never have thought that one day, he would crave for a peaceful life with a woman; and of course now that he did, the woman in question was the only one he had met who avoided marriage and a comfortable home like the plague. Murphy’s words came back to his mind. _She reminds me of you in some way_... Stephen closed his eyes to avoid Brianna’s inquiring gaze. _Of me… Before all of this happened…,_ he added inwardly. He then heard Brianna stir on the bunk.

“I'll get you something to dri-”

As fast as lightning, Stephen opened his eyes and grabbed the young woman before she had time to put a foot on the floor, and pulled her back onto the mattress. “Stay here.” His voice was a little harsher than he wanted it to be, and when Brianna's eyebrows rose up on her forehead, he added hastily: “Please.”

The young woman's features relaxed and she curled up against him again, until he fell asleep. After about twenty minutes, Brianna stood up as silently as possible and left the cabin. In the hallway, she found Jimmy who had also just woken up after a nap between shifts and asked him to stay by the door in case Stephen woke up or had another nightmare. The teenager nodded sadly and obeyed, as she walked up to the steerage, then the upper deck where O’Brien steered the ship.

“He’s back asleep...”, Brianna announced before the first mate could even ask.

O’Brien nodded. “ _Back_ asleep? He already had time to wake up before that?”

“Another nightmare… He was having a few in River Run, but now it’s just…”, she shook her head, unable to finish her sentence. “And he won't tell me anything.”

Exasperation was palpable in Brianna's voice and O’Brien pursed his lips. Both were silent for a moment, but they couldn't ignore the elephant in the room. A discussion was inevitable but none of them had the courage to start. They didn't have to, though: Murphy had just joined them on the upper deck, a serious expression on his wrinkled face.

“It can't go on like this…”, said the old man. Brianna closed her eyes and he saw O’Brien's jaw twitch. For the young man, who had always supported his captain no matter what, this was going to be hard to hear. “Some lads downstairs are starting to talk about a vote.”

“How dare they… it's only been a few days…”, Brianna muttered, shaking her head.

“They are worried and I cannot blame them. A drifting captain is a danger to the ship and to the entire crew.”

O'Brien glared at the carpenter. “If his men turn their backs on him and replace him, it will be the end of him... This galleon is all he ever had...”

“He just needs some rest!”, the young woman begged before turning to the first mate. “Maybe we could stop somewhere on an island… to give him time to…” She didn't even know what Stephen needed to get better. Yet she knew the name of the evil that was consuming him: “post-traumatic stress disorder”, a concept recently highlighted by scientists after the second world war, and which was certainly due to the tortures he had suffered as well as the shock of facing the scaffold, only escaping death by a whisker. But she had no knowledge of the subject or how to deal with it in this century when psychiatry did not even exist yet.

“Sounds reasonable to me…”, the young man agreed, nodding his head. “I will suggest to anyone who wants to find work elsewhere to do so. Those who wish to stay with us ashore will be welcome. I’ll have Doherty prepare equal parts of the treasure as well as the pay of any sailor wishing to leave us…” Turning talk into action, he craned his neck to address one of the sailors passing by: “Mr. Reilly, bring Mr. Doherty here.”

The sailor nodded and immediately disappeared downstairs.

“Where would we go?”, Brianna inquired.

“To make sure we don’t get into any trouble with the British, I would say somewhere on Hispaniola… The western part belongs to the French and the eastern part to Spain.”

 _Hispaniola_ …, Brianna thought with a shudder, but O’Brien didn’t notice her confusion. Her mother's last words before she left River Run came back to her and her heart began to race, as her eyes filled with tears. _Could this be a sign of fate…?_

“W-why… why don't we cast anchor in Fort-Dauphin Bay…?”, she offered, while cursing her own morbid curiosity.

O’Brien nodded, not even wondering how she knew the place. “It's easy to get to and populated enough to go unnoticed...”

Brianna turned away, unable to hold back her tears any longer. As happy as she was to be with Stephen, the man she now held in her arms was so broken she felt like she was losing him again, more and more every day. And now, O’Brien offered to take her to Hispaniola. _Of all the damn islands in the Caribbean, he had to choose this one…_ It couldn't be a coincidence. Sniffing miserably, she leaned against the railing and looked at the ocean. When heavy footsteps approached her, she rubbed her face with her sleeve and took a deep breath.

“The captain is a rugged man… He will get back on his feet. He always does…”

Brianna turned around and her red eyes fell on old Murphy, who had followed her.

“Even if part of his crew decides to try their luck somewhere else?”, she spat.

The old man smiled and leaned back on the railing. “You know, except for a few of us who have been on the _Gloriana_ for... far too long...”, he smiled and Brianna couldn't help but imitate him, “... the other sailors never stay more than a year or two. Most of them are here to line their pockets, then find a piece of land, start a family… Smuggling is a dangerous activity, but it pays well and fast.”

“And I ruined it all...”, the young woman mumbled, with teary eyes. “It's my fault. I got everyone into this crazy thing and now... you’re all unemployed...”

Murphy winced. “I wish I could say that you’re wrong, Miss... But if it’s any consolation, we voted. When the captain asked us if we wanted to find that treasure, we agreed. And what we earned will allow us all to live comfortably for most of our lives. So… don't be too hard on yourself. I'm sure if he could do it all over again, he would take the exact same decisions.”

Brianna strangely felt better at his words. The fact that Murphy didn't try to deny her share of the responsibility comforted her and eased her guilt, in a way. The old man hadn't been so understanding when she had barged into their lives, though. He had hated her at first sight, grumbling constantly at her and warning Stephen against “this woman’s shenanigans”.

“May I ask you something, Mr. Murphy?” He nodded and she went on: “One day, you told Stephen that I was not like the other girls... that I was going to drive him mad and that he would want to keep me...”

“By Jove, have you got the gift of making yourself invisible? How did you hear that?”, the old man growled, knowing immediately which conversation she was referring to. Brianna bit back a mocking laugh and ignored the question.

“Then you said that he should take responsibility. What did you mean by that?”

Murphy let out a long exasperated sigh and this time Brianna couldn't help but chuckle. The old man shook his head, crossing his fingers over the railing. “When I realized that he was falling in love like an idiot… I reminded him who he was and what it all entailed… A pirate who takes his lass at sea becomes an easy target for all privateers and corsairs who are ready to threaten a woman's life to take over a ship or its content. We saw it happen with that idiot Mulligan… and his employer.” Murphy paused briefly to give Brianna time to process the information. “He had two options at the time: the first was to let you go and forget you. Which he did, but much too late, and I can't say it brought him any luck...”

Brianna pursed her lips, as she remembered much too well that awful October morning, when he had left her in Wilmington, with a bag full of clothes and nothing but her eyes to weep with. “What was the other option?”

“Marry you and settle you in a house guarded by trusted men, out of sight. Like most of pirates do. But we both know that you are not one of those lasses who sit and wait for their husband to come home...”

“Not really…”

They exchanged a knowing smile and Brianna couldn't help but think how soothing the old carpenter could be, in his own way. She now felt much better, ready to face whatever stood between them and their happiness.

“I am going back to the cabin… Thank you, Mr. Murphy, for your honest answer and your wise words…”

“If only you could learn something from it…”, the old man quipped, causing Brianna to laugh sarcastically as she left. She met Doherty on his way to the upper deck and smiled at him, before getting to the captain's cabin, where Jimmy had sat on the floor with his back against the corridor wall. The teenager jumped to his feet.

“There hasn't been a sound since you left, Miss Brianna”, he whispered with a beaming smile. “Do you think that’s a good sign?”

“I hope so... Thanks for keeping an eye on him.” Slipping her arms around the young boy's shoulders, she pulled him against her and he hugged her back. “You should go back up… O’Brien is calling everyone for a gathering tonight…”

Jimmy's smile fell instantly and she saw in his eyes that he already knew the subject of that meeting.

“Don't worry, we found… a solution. Everything will be fine… ”, she reassured him. He nodded limply and after a last glance in her direction, dragged his feet up the stairs. When the boy was gone, Brianna took a deep breath and slowly opened the cabin door. Stephen didn't seem to have moved since she left and that was quite a relief. Taking care to avoid the creaking floorboards on her way to the chest where she had stored all her stuff, she opened the lid. She glanced again at Stephen, who was still asleep, then reached to the bottom of the trunk to lift a wad of drawing paper and pull out a yellowed, folded piece of parchment. _In case of emergency_ , her mother had said before she left River Run. And before revealing another one of those incredible stories that only time-travelers can tell...

The young woman unfolded it without making the slightest noise. She had read it once or twice before, but she once again felt the need to do it again. A growl coming from the bunk startled her. Stephen was fidgeting and she quickly folded the note and hid it back in the bottom of the chest. Approaching the pirate, she put her cool hand on his hot forehead and gently stroked his hair. The effect was almost immediate and under other circumstances Brianna would have taken pride in having such a soothing impact. With a sigh, she took her clothes off to be a little more comfortable and lie down next to him. At the rate Stephen had been living in the past few days, every peaceful moment was an opportunity to get some precious minutes of sleep and she dozed off almost instantly.

Night had long fallen when Stephen opened his eyes again. A few atrocious images had sporadically crossed his mind during this long nap, but they had been less frequent. And above all, interspersed with delicious scenes from his imaginary life with… _Brianna_. He turned his head, suddenly worried that she had disappeared, but she was still there, lying next to him, sound asleep and – as he could see thanks to the moonlight coming from the open balcony doors – almost naked.

He couldn't go on like this, panicking every time she wasn’t in his direct field of vision. Constantly looking for her, analyzing the slightest of her expressions to figure out if she intended to run away and abandon him to his sorry fate. Because even though she swore to the Gods that she wanted to stay by his side today, they weren't married and if she felt the urge to leave, nothing would stop her.

Stephen shivered as he almost felt his imaginary son’s silky hair in his hand. Over the past few months, he had lost count of the times he had a brush with death. Nothing too surprising for a thirty-three-year-old pirate. A captain’s average lifespan rarely exceeded thirty, so he could consider himself lucky. But the thought that he could have died, without leaving anything behind him other than a ship and a big pile of gold, now sent cold chills down his spine. If Brianna got pregnant, she would have no choice but to stay with him… He could stop worrying about her abandoning him… And he would finally take that child in his actual arms, and not in the mental palace he had built to resist Tryon.

The bedsheet she had thrown over the curve of her back slid down her thighs as Brianna turned in her sleep and Stephen was delighted to see her eyelids flicker. Her first instinct had been to turn her head towards him to make sure he was okay and she looked surprised to see him awake and calm. The huge smile that appeared on her lips was so spontaneous and genuine that Stephen almost felt moved.

“Hey…”, she whispered, squirming to get closer to him. “Did you sleep well?”

“Hm…I slept...”

“Well, that's something”, she teased, putting a hand on the pirate's waist. She then analyzed him for a moment and nodded approvingly. “You seem to be doing a little better...” In fact, she could see a new desire in the pirate's eyes, a new kind of determination. It wasn't the usual desire he showed as he undressed her, nor the determination he once used to bend her to his will. No, this time again, she felt that Stephen Bonnet had made a decision in his heart, without consulting her and as always, she had the unpleasant feeling that she would not know what it was before it was too late.

But he didn’t give her time to ask and the Irishman rolled her onto her back to cover her with his body... and with sweet kisses. Brianna smiled, happy to see the Stephen Bonnet she had been deprived of for the past few days, and let herself be carried away by his embrace.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Our boy Stephen suffers from a few after-effects and some new fads… Whatever she does, he always finds new ways to possess Brianna, to tie her up to him at all costs, and his current condition doesn't help. Hope you enjoy reuniting with our crew again! Now that you have some clues as to where they are going, you probably guess what Claire said to Brianna before she left… How far will her curiosity push her…? You will find out very soon!**

**I can't wait to read your comments and until then I wish you a great week, a Merry Christmas and see you next Monday!**

**Xérès**


	28. An Uaimh Mistéireach

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Hope you had a merry Christmas and Santa Claus brought you some glorious gifts! Now that you know a little more about the demons that haunt our dear pirate, it's time to find out about Claire's mysterious recommendations (season 3 isn't that far away, I’m sure you already have an idea!). I hope you enjoy this chapter, although it is a bit shorter than usual!**

**Thank you all of you who read, commented and kudozed last chapter!**

**oOo**

  1. _An Uaimh Mistéireach_ (The Mysterious Cave)



Brianna let out a long groan as she stretched out her arms, entangled in the unmade sheets. Next to her, the bunk was empty. Stephen was already up, but she wasn't too worried. His condition had significantly improved over the past few days and although he kept having nightmares on a daily basis, he no longer tried to stay awake all the time. He was catching up on sleep, regaining strength and it had brought Brianna some hope. Of course, the terrified look he had when he woke up always broke her heart, but he just had to turn his head towards her and terror turned into desire. A desire that he never grew tired of expressing. Even though she couldn't quite understand the reason behind this unquenchable craving for flesh, Brianna was not complaining. After everything they had been through, they deserved some time together.

Stephen had also agreed to take a step back from his duties, leaving O’Brien in charge more than half the time. As a result, when he made himself available, he appeared more rested, more lucid and the tensions that had arisen within the crew regarding his behavior had somewhat subsided. Brianna and the first mate were still convinced that he had to slow down, and the latter had exposed to the pirate their decision to stop for an indefinite period in Saint-Domingue, on the island of Hispaniola, as well as the desire of a few sailors to leave. Bonnet had stared at him for a long time, but had unexpectedly approved without even trying to argue.

Extracting herself from the bed, Brianna quickly put on a light outfit and crossed the cabin to enjoy the Caribbean air on the balcony. As they had arrived during the night, Stephen had collapsed after mooring the _Gloriana_ and she had barely opened one eye to snuggle against him before falling asleep again. But now, she was eager to discover Saint-Domingue. New landscape, new land. _New life_ … Fort-Dauphin Bay was a three-miles-long sea enclave, staunchly defended by the French against the Spanish occupying the eastern part of Hispaniola and against privateers and corsairs, swarming in the area due to the proximity of Tortuga. The British didn't even set foot here, except for trade, and that suited Stephen perfectly. He had certainly seen enough red coats for a lifetime.

Along the dock, the sailors were already bustling about, loading wood and other materials for the ship’s maintenance. Drinking water, alcohol, food, each stopover was an opportunity to refill the holds. Leaning a little further forward, she spotted Stephen's brand new black tricorn, before the rest of the Irishman finally appeared behind a stack of wooden crates that several men were loading inside the galleon. Before she knew it, a silly smile spread over her lips as she eyed Stephen greedily. Now that neither MacNamara nor her parents’ house fire could endanger their happiness, she enjoyed every minute she spent with Stephen, watching him on the sly, kissing him and eventually more. As if nothing could burst the small bubble that surrounded them since they had left North Carolina.

By the pirate’s side, Doherty was diligently taking inventory of all the items entering the holds, until one of the sailors took away the barrel on which he had put his inkwell. The quartermaster spun around for a moment, scanning the area, then began to run after the unintentional thief, groaning. Brianna burst out laughing and immediately saw Bonnet's green eyes turn towards her. The corner of his mouth twitched and his gaze lingered appreciatively on her messy hair and on the curve of her breasts visible through her thin white blouse. Between the rail-posts, he could also get a glimpse of her petticoat brushing against her ankles in the wind.

“Careful, Captain, you're drooling…”, Brianna called out loudly, causing a few smirks among the crew members. However, the sailors did not dare to ogle her: even if the pirate was not in perfect shape, they did not want to lose an eye. Brianna stifled a yawn. “Why all the fuss so early in the day?”

“We won't be staying in this town. Just long enough to fill the holds… buy a few things… and properly celebrate the departure of those who wish to leave.”

“I thought you were supposed to get some rest…?”, she said a bit reproachfully.

“I will. But I’d rather find someplace less populated in the bay…”

“Oh…” Brianna pursed her lips. She had spoken too soon, thinking he was trying to get away from that well-deserved vacation. But she was obviously wrong. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

The pirate nodded. “Yes, there is… Be a good girl and stay here.”

“Is that a code for ‘do what you want as long as you stay out of my way’?”

“No, darlin’, that's a code for ‘be a good girl and stay here’”, he repeated a little more firmly, despite the smile still floating on his lips.

“As if I were used to get into trouble every time we arrive in a new place...”

At these words, Stephen’s expression became so sarcastic that Brianna was almost offended. All right, there had been a few setbacks in Philadelphia, and then at the slave market in Sint-Eustatius, and finally in Wilmington which had literally been put to fire and sword at her initiative… Smirking, Stephen turned away to go about his business and she went back inside the cabin to fall flat on the bunk. So… Stephen did not intend to stay in Fort-Dauphin for very long. Brianna thought about the piece of paper hidden in her chest and her mother's last words. Maybe she'd better go take a look, to see if the place Claire indicated was still there. That way, she could find it more easily the day she would really need it or in case of emergency. After all, she had clear instructions and Fort-Dauphin was the closest town to the place in question… She might not get a better opportunity any time soon.

 _It's just recon_ , she thought. _Nothing more_... Jumping to her feet, she swapped her petticoat for pants, put on her waist cincher over her blouse and a small, light jacket over it to avoid insistent stares at her bosom. She didn’t care about her outfit when she was with the crew, but on her own… she would rather not poke the bear. The pants alone could get her into trouble. She pulled her hair up into a bun and put her satchel around her neck before filling it with Claire's instructions, the Cameron's pistol, a few pounds picked up on Stephen's desk, as well as a water flask and some biscuits when she went down to the kitchen. Surprisingly, she no longer had to stick to the schedules or even beg since Bonnet had escaped the gallows: Flanagan would let her take whatever she wanted without even a disapproving growl.

Hardly had her toes touched the dock when Stephen's annoyed voice rose behind her back. “ _Bí i do chailín maith agus fan anseo_!”

Brianna spun around and looked at him in wonder. “Uh... Bless you?”, she said as he strode over.

“Be a good girl and stay here. I must not have been clear enough in English, so I tried in Irish...”

“I'm just taking a walk.” As the pirate began to roll his eyes in exasperation, she leaned against him, placing a gentle hand on his chest. “All right, I promise you right here and now that I’ll stay away from the big bad slavers. I will remain at a reasonable distance from cemeteries and I won't insult anyone… as far as possible”, she added immediately.

Stephen couldn't help but chuckle and she smiled at him. A flash of concern passed in his emerald eyes but she had the feeling that he was struggling against it. It was about time he trusted her fully, if they wanted their couple to get past the dominant-dominated relationship that he had created when she had become his property in Jamaica. He gritted his teeth, screwing up his courage, and nodded.

“If you're not back in my arms, safe and sound, before dark...”

But Brianna didn't give him time to finish his sentence. “... I'll be back long before that...”, she sighed before standing on tiptoe to whisper against his ear: “... and if I'm late, I'll let you chain me up to our bed for the rest of my life…”

The pirate tilted his head to the side, as if he was actually considering it. With a small laugh, Brianna placed a kiss on the corner of his lips and walked away, ignoring the passers-by glancing at this cross-dressed girl who had just kissed a man in public. Stephen watched her walk away with a little apprehension. He had to keep busy until she came back, so that he wouldn't have time to panic. Or give in to the urge to follow her. In fact, he was about to run after her when his conscience called him to order and he turned around to join Doherty instead.

Less than an hour later, however, his good intentions were put to the test when Boyle, Finn and Jimmy returned from town with some new clothes to replace their old shabby shirts and pants. “That’s a big step forward for you, Captain!”, Boyle shouted with a sneer.

Stephen, who was dealing with a damaged mizzenmast problem with Murphy, turned around and frowned. “What?”

“Sending your lady on an errand out of town. There was a time not so long ago when you wouldn’t even consider it…” Boyle turned to the teenagers accompanying him and poked Finn on the side with his elbow. “Isn’t it sweet… right, lads?”

Stephen's face turned livid and hardened so fast that Murphy cringed and took a step back. A faint “uh oh” escaped Jimmy's mouth and Boyle instantly stopped smiling.

“Out of town?”, the pirate hissed, grabbing the sailor by the collar.

“That's... that's what we thought... We saw her rent a horse from an old man near the fort...”, Boyle stammered. “He was giving her a direction, maybe he knows where she went?”

Murphy put a soothing but firm hand on Stephen's shoulder, urging him to let poor Boyle go. “She will be back, Captain… You have to trust her. She certainly deserves it, don't you think?”

Slowly, Stephen released the pressure on the sailor's collar and Boyle could breathe normally again. Around them, everyone relaxed, until the captain’s voice rose again. “Where is this old man?”

“Captain…”, Murphy started but the murderous look he received for his intervention deterred him from speaking. And when that same gaze returned to Boyle, the young man began to stutter even more.

“So-you-take-that-street-over-here-then-you-walk-along-the-harbor-to-the-military-fort-and-the-horse-renter-is-right-in-front-of-it”, Boyle said extremely quickly.

Bonnet took off, striding up the docks with a gruff gait and a threatening frown that caused a few passers-by to step out of his way. Behind his back, he clearly heard Jimmy's voice scolding Boyle. “You _had_ to open your big mouth, you idiot?!”

His colleague answered something but Stephen was already too far gone to hear. A few minutes later, he found the old man, comfortably seated on a stool among his horses, his hands holding a long stick in front of him.

“Did you give a horse to a young red-haired woman this morning?”, he barked at the man, who frowned. Quick as lightning despite his decrepit looks, the old man twirled his stick and struck Stephen's elbow so hard that the pirate took two steps back.

“What a way to behave! Didn't your mother teach you how to say hello?”

Within seconds, several scenarios of what he would have loved to do to that old fogey – if he had had the time and motivation – flashed through Stephen’s mind. Many of these scenarios including that damn stick and various orifices of its owner’s body. But he had other fishes to fry… So he just narrowed his eyes and gave him a smile that was a bit too wide to be honest. “My sincere apologies, Sir. Good morning to you.”

“That's better!”, the man muttered, planting his stick back in the ground between his feet. “I did let a horse to an oddly-dressed little lady... She lacked a bit of education as well. I guess she's with you?”

“She is…”, Stephen drawled. Any of his sailors would have run off from just hearing the threat in his tone, but not his valiant (or stupid?) interlocutor. “Do you know where she went?”

“Is she running away from you? What did you do to that poor child?”

In Stephen's mind, the old man was now pierced by his own stick, spinning like a roasting pig over a big fire. With an apple in his mouth. He could almost smell grilled meat… But on the outside, all the renter could see was that creepy fake smile plastered on his face.

“She's not running away from me, I'm just worried… A woman on the road alone, in those clothes. It’s not safe…”

The renter analyzed him for a moment and sighed. “She asked me where she could go up the river to Abandawe... It's less than an hour from here at a gallop, two if you dawdle. My horses are strong steeds, you'll catch up with your lady in no time… That will be four pounds to go there and back…”, the man said, holding out his palm towards Stephen.

A few minutes and four pounds later, Stephen spurred his horse on Brianna's tracks along the Manon River. The initially flat ground allowed him to gallop three-quarters of the way, until the hills slowed the animal’s pace. Brianna's horse had left clear hoofprints on the moist soil, and he had no trouble following her to a clearing high up on a hillock. Her mount was tied up to a tree, peacefully grazing some green grass at its feet. But the pirate did not stop nearby. He couldn't explain why, but something made him hide his horse a little further into the forest, on another side of the hill. Maybe it was the guilt of breaking his promise. Or the fact that he still couldn’t trust her completely. And it was justified: Brianna had come here without telling him. She was clearly looking for something specific and he’d rather know what it was before revealing his presence. Leading his horse behind thick bushes, he tied the reins to a branch and walked up the hill to find her.

~o~

The hilltop looked exactly like the circle of stones in Craigh na Dun, and Brianna unconsciously held her breath when she finally reached the huge megaliths. And yet, despite their similar appearance, what Brianna felt had nothing to do with Craigh na Dun. In Scotland, the stones sounded like a huge swarm of angry bees and their power of attraction was somewhat dark and terrifying, as if they sucked up a little bit of the traveler’s vital energy at every passage. But the stones of Abandawe were nothing like it, at least in Brianna's opinion.

When her mother had told her about this portal before she left River Run, she had mentioned the pain and discomfort she had felt near the stones, a few years earlier. But Brianna felt no pain, no discomfort. The only thing in common with Claire's testimony was the sound coming from the stones: no bees here, but a metallic ringing, as if a big church bell had just been struck. The vibrations echoed in her body in perfect synchronization, as if each of her organs, each of her nerve endings, were now oscillating on the same frequency as the megaliths. Unlike Craigh na Dun that seemed to suck her vital force up, Abandawe was _giving_ her some. How could Claire have such a bad memory of this place? The power of these stones was purely and simply exhilarating and the closer Brianna got to them, the more invincible she felt. In harmony with every gust of wind on her skin, every blade of grass under her feet, every insect chirping in the vegetation.

A weak voice somewhere in her brain kept telling her that she shouldn't get too close, that she belonged with Stephen, but the bells were ringing louder and muffled everything else. Before she could even realize it, she was now standing in front of the larger stone, arm outstretched. But far from being panicked at the thought of leaving this century, the only thing she felt was a great and soothing... fullness.

“NO!”

A cry of terror had risen in the clearing. A voice that was not her own and that had miraculously managed to cover the sound of the megaliths. Brianna jumped and blinked, in a daze, her outstretched hand just inches from the stone’s surface. As if she had just received an electric shock, she staggered back and quickly moved away from the circle, realizing that she had almost returned to where she had come from without even really wanting to. She looked around her but there was absolutely no one in sight and she wondered if that voice had even been real.

Claire had told her that the stones held powers other than time travel, such as being able to look through the portal to another time or another place connected to it, for example. She herself had used this power to “see” inside Abandawe cave, a few feet underground.

Brianna took a deep breath and tried to calm her pounding heart down. Perhaps the voice belonged to another Traveler, and she had picked it up by getting too close to the power source? Or just a brutal expression of her conscience that refused to abandon Stephen. There was no one else around, what else could it be? The young woman suppressed a shudder. Although the energy released by the stones was incredible and surprisingly invigorating, the ease with which they nearly took her away terrified her. She had to get away from it. _Okay, now I know where the portal is. If I ever need to go home, I will know how to get there and how long it will take_...

As she stepped out of the circle, Brianna saw a little further down the southern slope the entrance to the cave indicated by her mother and frowned. The story she had told her had made her blood run cold, but a morbid curiosity now drove her to have a look inside. _And that will put some distance between me and those damn stones..._ She entered the cave, unaware of the figure lurking in the shadows, watching her. Stephen blinked several times. He didn’t understand what he had just witnessed, or what had made him scream. Even from where he stood, Stephen had seen Brianna’s blank stare, her hand slowly but surely drawn to the stone, as if she was under its spell. He had felt deep down that she should not touch it. But why? Was it something… wrong? Dangerous? He had no idea. But then, he saw her go down into the cave and immediately followed suit, determined not to take his eyes off her.

With the sun lighting up the entrance, Brianna had no trouble finding her way in the gallery, her eyes getting used to the darkness that grew thicker as she went. The walls were glistening all around her, possibly due to the presence of precious ore in the rock, sparkling with the slightest ray of light. The gallery was not too deep and led into a large oblong cavity where the remains of an old altar were still standing. These were not the only remains in the area. Brianna shivered and slowly approached the skeleton lying on the floor. Fibers from a cloth that looked like a large hood, were still stuck to some of the bones, but most of it had certainly been carried away with the flesh by hungry scavengers, before the insects and tropical climate took care of the rest. A few long, stringy blond hair had withstood the ravages of predators and ambient conditions, and formed a dismal crown around the skull… which wasn’t attached to the rest of the body.

A few feet behind her, crouching in a recess, Stephen was watching her silently. Even though he didn't know anything about the place or what had happened, he felt in every fiber of his being that nothing here was normal. And the feeling only grew stronger seconds later when Brianna wearily spoke to the skeleton.

“Hi, Geillis...”

With a sigh, she knelt down by the bones and took the skull in her hands. Something had made her seize it and a wave of anger washed over her, as her mother’s story came back to her mind.

Geillis Duncan was a Traveler Claire had met in Scotland on her very first travel, long before she became pregnant with Brianna. Geillis was a Scottish nationalist, who had only one dream: to bring a Stuart back on the Scottish throne and change her country’s fate. After discovering the power of the stones in the 60’s, she had decided to change the course of History and had travelled back to the eighteenth century, years before Claire herself was sent there. Geillis' methods to achieve her ends, however, left much to be desired and the woman tended to leave a trail of dead bodies behind. Her first husband had borne the brunt of it all, as Geillis believed that a human sacrifice was necessary to travel back in time. After both being accused of witchcraft because of the independentist, Claire had escaped the stake, but Geillis had not been so lucky. Or so she thought, until she found the young woman under a new identity, ruling over a Jamaican plantation and indulging in blood rituals, hoping that it would help her in her insane quest.

Suffering from syphilis and slowly spiraling into madness, Geillis had heard about a prophecy that promised the return of the Stuarts to the throne upon the death of the Fraser of Lovat’s last heir. In other words... _Me_.

 _The Fraser of Lovat lineage had allegedly died out in the early 1800s, but when she found out that I had given birth to a daughter in 1948_..., Claire had said, shaking her head. Tears had appeared in her eyes at the mere memory of that horrible night. When she and Jamie had followed Geillis to Abandawe. Upon their arrival, Geillis was about to sacrifice poor wee Ian in order to open the portal and return to the twentieth century to kill Brianna. _I had to kill her, Bree. I beheaded this woman with an axe to save your life. And I would do it again if I had to. As many times as necessary_.

“That’s what you get for trying to kill me…”, Brianna muttered, dropping the skull back to the ground. She reached for an old, worn-out satchel that rested near the body and emptied it. Geillis’s witchy paraphernalia spread out before her eyes. Stones, powders, crystals, rusty blades tumbled to the ground with a metallic noise. The young woman whistled appreciatively and picked up a few gems and roughly cut diamonds to slip them into her own pockets. “I hope you don’t mind if I take these? You don't need them anymore… And after all the trouble you've caused to my family, I think you owe me that.”

Brianna stood up, wincing. Her knees creaked loudly in the silence, and she gave one last hateful look at the lonely skull. Claire had not given more details, certainly out of modesty, but Brianna had taken the hint that her young cousin Ian had suffered a lot of abuse in the hands of this madwoman. Sexual abuse, no less. Again, she felt anger wash over her and had to resist the urge to kick the skull.

“I hope you rot in Hell, bitch”, she hissed, quite astonished by the aggressiveness she heard in her own voice. It was that place... The power it gave her made her feel everything more intensely, including the contempt she had for the deceased. “Sorry...”, she corrected herself instantly, feeling both ashamed for insulting a corpse and stupid for speaking to it out loud. _I really have to get out of here, this bloody Aladdin’s cave is driving me nuts._

Besides, she had seen everything she wanted to see here. Recon the place, the road to get there... and make sure that the stones were still calling her. As much as it pained her to admit it and even if she wanted nothing more than to stay with Stephen for the moment, knowing that she could still go back home reassured her. It was a bit like having a plan B when plan A went down the drain. She could now serenely go back to Stephen’s arms. Brianna smiled and turned back to the cave entrance, already reveling in the idea of curling up against Stephen's chest. _This very night and hopefully every night after that for a long time to come_...

Dazzled by the sun, she left the cave and after a last glance at the megaliths, began to walk back down the hill to her horse. In his dark recess, Stephen had not made the slightest move and he noticed by the burn he soon felt in his lungs, that he had barely dared to breathe. What he had just witnessed did not make any sense and Brianna was obviously hiding a lot more about her past than he had thought. The memory of Claire Fraser's words, as she replaced his bandages, rushed back to him.

_The truth caused her father to suffer from alcoholism and melancholia; it destroyed our family and… I guess Brianna doesn't want history to repeat itself with you…_

Stephen pursed his lips. If the healer's words had warmed his heart at the time, they no longer did now. Right now, he would have murdered his father and mother – if he had had any – to know that truth, that seemed so hard to hear. He would even have sold the _Gloriana_ to the Devil himself in order to unravel the mystery that was Brianna Fraser. Because he knew he would never trust her completely if she wasn't transparent with him. And if he didn't trust her, she would feel it and walk away. He couldn't let this happen. Not now that he was just starting to regain sanity. He would have to discover her secret and live with it. No matter the cost.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Of course, a small detour on Hispaniola had to bring us back to this good old Abandawe cave… Brianna had no intention of leaving, but it is normal to make sure that she could use the portal in case of emergency… As for Stephen, his insecurities may drive him to do stupid things (as usual?)…**

**I hope you liked this chapter and this little reference to the events of season 3! I can’t wait to read your comments and until then, I wish you a happy new year 2021 (hoping it is better than 2020), to be blessed with good health (very important) and lots of happiness!**

**See you next Monday!**

**Xérès**


	29. Anois an tAm

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Aaaand I'm back! I’m so sorry I have missed an update, but being 2 and a half months pregnant is waaaay more exhausting than I thought (already lost 20 pounds, ffs), last Monday an old coot voluntarily crashed into my car and tried to run away, and I had a lot of work on top of that, so I did not have the strength to post the new chapter! Anyway… here it is now ! Hope you’ll like it!**

**Thank you all of you who read, commented and kudozed the previous chapter!**

**oOo**

  1. _Anois an tAm_ (It’s time)



It was already afternoon when Brianna returned to Fort-Dauphin. After her excursion to Abandawe, she had gently led her horse down the river to the bay, letting it trot along the coast. After bringing it back to its owner near the fort, she decided to enjoy the sun, the heat and her solitude a little longer. There was something strangely enjoyable about walking alone, without Stephen’s or the other sailors’ constant supervision. Not that their presence was a burden, but this newly found freedom could only mean one thing: Stephen finally trusted her. By helping him escape, she had proven her worth, her ability to face danger, and her loyalty to him. He was finally treating her as his equal, and no longer as his property or as a fragile little thing he kept carefully in his cabin. Their relationship had reached a new milestone.

The thought made her smile as she strolled about the streets of Fort-Dauphin. The colorful stall of a fruit seller caught her eye and she bought a delicious mango. The man prepared and cut it for her, and she walked to the nearest beach to eat it. The turquoise water glistened in the sunlight, and it was so clear that every smallest sea urchin, fish, or irregularity in the white sand was visible. In other circumstances, she wouldn't have hesitated for a second to put her bathing suit on and go for a swim. But she doubted that the mores of this time would allow her to. _I could still soak my feet..._

Taking off her shoes, Brianna rolled up the cuffs of her pants to her knees, ditched her bag, jacket, and any unneeded accessories on the sand, before entering the warm Caribbean waters. Around her, the beach was deserted; the pleasures of swimming were still uncommon at that time. _I could take a bath with my clothes on… The ship is not that far away, I’ll just have to get changed when I get back_ …, a tempting voice echoed in her mind. Taking one last look around, Brianna pursed her lips and unable to wait any longer, fell over backwards. The water covered her entirely for a moment, until she stabilized on the surface, floating on her back. With the sun on her face and the water making her as light as a feather, Brianna blissfully closed her eyes. After a few minutes, she opened them again and turned her head towards the beach. Through the beads of water hanging from her eyelashes, she thought for a moment that someone was standing in the sand. Motionless. Staring at her insistently. Surprised, Brianna lost her balance and struggled for a few seconds in the water to get up. But when she looked back towards the beach, nothing was there.

She was sure she had seen someone, though. Brianna came out of the water, frowning. First, she had heard a voice near the megaliths and now someone was watching her. A shiver ran through her and the only thing she wanted to do now was going back to the _Gloriana_ and in Stephen’s arms. She quickly wrung out her blouse, tossed her jacket over it to hide her curves, now perfectly visible through the soaked fabric, picked up her satchel and shoes, and walked barefoot to the harbor. She was still dripping when she reached the galleon and a few sailors stared at her in amazement.

“What the Hell happened to you, Miss?”, Doherty exclaimed when he saw her.

Brianna smiled at him reassuringly. “Nothing at all, I just wanted to freshen up a bit. Where's Stephen?”

The quartermaster's expression faded slightly and she frowned. “Well… he had a few things to do in town… He should be back soon. You should get changed before you catch a cold”, Doherty finished hastily.

The young man's behavior was strange, as if he was hiding his captain's true activities from her, but she decided to take his advice and put on dry clothes before launching any investigation. However, Stephen burst into the cabin as she finished tying her waist cincher over a clean blouse and light skirt. Brianna gave him a beaming smile as he walked through the door, but immediately noticed by the pirate's narrowed eyes and pursed lips that he wasn't exactly in a good mood.

“See? I promised you I would be back before sunset!”, she crooned, spreading her arms like a star entering the limelight. Bonnet’s face did not brighten, however, and Brianna deduced that her impression of equality and freedom might be a tad premature.

“Where have you been?”, the pirate asked abruptly. He was trying to sound factual, but his tone was cold and harsh. Determined not to let him ruin her morning, Brianna walked over to her bag and opened it on the table, revealing the stones she had stolen from Geillis.

“I remembered one of Frank’s stories about a small cave near Fort-Dauphin, I wanted to take a look. And here is the loot of the day, captain!”, she announced happily. “It was child's play, to be honest! No horrible cavemen or underground rivers, this time.”

Stephen's piercing gaze was analyzing her and she instantly knew he was trying his best to find out if she was telling the truth. His green irises were drilling so deep in hers that Brianna soon felt uncomfortable. What was he looking for? Why such a change in behavior between this morning and this afternoon?

After a long silence, Stephen narrowed his eyes again and turned to the various stones spread out on the table. He grabbed a few diamonds, made them roll in the palm of his hand to have a better look, before slipping them into his waistcoat’s inner pocket. “The captain's share...”, he growled simply, before heading for the exit.

Brianna watched him leave, frowning. “What is wrong with you?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, his hand on the doorknob, and she saw his jaw twitch, as his eyes flashed. Within a second, the Stephen Bonnet of the early days – when they spent most of their time testing each other's limits – was back. “You'll find out soon enough…”, he blurted out before leaving the cabin, slamming the door on a very lost and confused Brianna.

~o~

After that weird talk, Stephen had left the _Gloriana_ for several hours, only to return at sunset, just when the sailors had finished preparing the farewell party for those who had decided to go back home or take their chances somewhere else. Even then, he remained at a good distance from Brianna, pretending he always had something to do, someone to see, so as not to pay her any attention.

 _If he expects me to beg for his forgiveness and promise never to go out alone again, well it ain’t gonna happen_ , Brianna thought as he dodged her once more, disappearing towards the holds with Doherty. That was the only possible explanation for his behavior. He couldn't stand it when she wasn’t in _his_ line of sight, on _his_ galleon, under _his_ control and he had decided to make her pay for it. But this time, she wouldn't surrender. The evolution of their relationship was at stake. If they wanted to be happy together, he would have to take it upon himself and stop bossing her around as if she was still his property. _I must not give in, I'm doing this for us_ …, she thought, repeating this phrase to herself like a mantra.

Soon the night fell on Fort-Dauphin and the party started under the lights of the lanterns. As they were ashore, Flanagan had prepared a gargantuan buffet, filled with much more delicious food than his usual grub. Alcohol was flowing like water and the harbor quickly echoed with loud drunken voices. Stephen had been relatively quiet during the evening, drinking a disturbing amount of whiskey in a corner and exchanging a few words with his future ex-sailors. Brianna, on the other hand, sat with Boyle, Jimmy, O’Brien and a few others around a huge plate of dried meat. She would regularly glance at Stephen, but except for the decreasing level of amber liquid in his bottle, nothing really changed. _Maybe he's a bit sad to have twenty of his men leave all at once?_ , she wondered without much conviction, before Boyle jumped on his feet and startled her.

“Let’s… play a game!”, the sailor bellowed with a broad smile. Brianna frowned as she saw everyone else around let out a long and weary sigh.

O'Brien dropped his head backwards and groaned. “Oh, _shite_ , here we go again…”

“You could at least have the decency to wait until you know what game I'm talking about...”

“We already know: it's always the same _bloody_ game!”, Doherty quipped, taking a sip from his own bottle.

Brianna's frown deepened. “What game?”

Another general sigh. “ _No_ , please, do not encourage him!”, O’Brien ordered, pointing a threatening finger at the young woman, who laughed. Boyle clasped a hand on his chest and bowed to thank her.

“I am so glad you asked, Miss Fraser. Don’t listen to that bunch of old killjoys, they don’t know how to have a good time...”

“We know how. We just don’t play like five-year-olds”, O’Brien retorted, rolling his eyes.

“You just say that because I always win.”

“Would you please stop beating around the bush? Tell me what’s the damn game!”, Brianna laughed, but Boyle just smirked and went down to look for something in the sailors’ quarters. Sitting across from Brianna, O’Brien shook his head.

“When you will start to regret... remember that it was you, and only you, who insisted on playing”, the first mate said as the others chuckled.

Boyle soon reappeared, holding a small wooden box in his hands. Lifting the lid, he held it up under Brianna's nose. Inside were two strings, one end of which ended in a knot. The box also contained a few characteristic brown balls.

“Are these… chestnuts?”, Brianna asked, now extremely intrigued.

“Correct.” Boyle grabbed one of them, dug a hole in its middle with a sharp spike, and passed one of the strings through it until the knot kept the chestnut from falling. He did the same with the other string and handed it to Brianna, under O’Brien's dismayed but amused gaze. Boyle looped the string twice around his wrist, letting the chestnut fall a couple of inches lower under his hand, before asking Brianna to do the same.

“ _This_ is a conker. The aim of the game is to break the opponent’s chestnut with your own, while he keeps it motionless in suspension. Like this.” He grabbed his own chestnut in his left hand, pulled it back as much as possible, aimed, and sent it forward with a quick flick of his right wrist. “If you don’t hit the chestnut and the strings get tangled, you can play again. Three unsuccessful attempts, and you lose your turn. If one of the conkers falls to the ground, the opponent must shout ‘Stamps!’ before the other shouts ‘No stamps!’, and if he succeeds, he’s entitled to try and stamp _once_ on the opponent’s chestnut to smash it to smithereens.”

“Unfortunately, you can’t _intentionally_ hit your opponent with your conker...”, Jimmy added, “... but no one here will blame you if you make him eat all of his stupid chestnuts.”

“And not necessarily through the mouth”, Doherty finished in a low voice.

“You’re just angry because I always win and I have robbed you all blind over the years...”, Boyle boasted as Brianna looped the end of the string around her wrist. Boyle stretched his arm forward, letting the chestnut hang over the deck, motionless. “Of course, I’m a gentleman… Ladies first.”

Brianna pulled the chestnut backwards as indicated, aimed it at Boyle's, and with a quick gesture, sent her conker hit the sailor's with a loud click. The chestnut obviously didn't break so early in the game, but twirled at the end of the string under the crewmembers’ dumbfounded gaze.

“Sounds pretty easy...”, she said with a shrug.

A heavy silence fell over their small group and she saw a flash of uncertainty in Boyle's eyes.

“Beginner's luck. My turn.” Matching words with action, he aimed and hit Brianna's chestnut. So it was her turn to play again and she once more managed to hit her opponent's conker. Suffice to say that Boyle was not acting so proud anymore. Excited murmurs rose among the audience.

“Ooooh, I see…”, Boyle whispered softly, narrowing his eyes. “The Boston girl is neat-handed. She thinks she has a chance...”

“I bet you ten quid you’ll bite the dust in no time, mate…”, O’Brien cooed, smirking.

Boyle glared at him. “Deal. But don't come whining when you lose…”

A chorus of cheers soon arose around the two players. Brianna's skills had intrigued some of the crewmembers, so much so that Doherty soon had to go and get a notebook, quill and ink to keep track of the bets. A few men continued to support Boyle out of pure male solidarity, but most of the stakes were clearly in favor of the young woman, and O’Brien kept outbidding, thinking of the nice amount of money he would certainly win.

Leaning against the base of the mainmast, Murphy was watching the game with amusement until his gaze briefly turned to Bonnet a few feet away. Alone with his bottle of whiskey, he seemed lost in dark thoughts and after some hesitation, the carpenter decided to approach him. Silently, he sat down next to him, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. The pirate didn't make the slightest gesture indicating he had noticed his presence, his green eyes staring at Brianna from afar. Murphy wasn't sure how to strike up the conversation. The captain’s recent unstable condition made his reactions even more difficult to predict than before, but the old man wanted to know how his soul-son was doing. No, he _needed_ it. The mere sight of him brooding like this caused a dull pain in his chest.

“How are you feeling, lad?”, the old man asked in a low voice. Bonnet blinked and looked down at his hands. Murphy followed his gaze unintentionally and the pain in his heart intensified at the sight of the torn nails and swollen fingers. But when he turned his attention back to the captain’s face, he was even more struck by his tired, gloomy expression.

Murphy shivered; he had seen that look before, on another face, many decades ago. That of his adoptive father, the first captain who had taken him as a cabin boy on his ship. He was a fiery man, too, impulsive… but always cheerful and determined. Until he got tired of this life and of the privateers chasing him all the time, preventing him from staying in one place more than a few days. Tired of diseases, malnutrition, battles and storms. At thirty-six, he had gradually lost all will to fight. The British had picked him up at dawn in a Charlestown tavern, half-naked in a harlot’s bed, and had locked him up in a cage hanging over the harbor. Young Sean Murphy, barely twelve years old at the time, had spent days under the cage, throwing small pebbles to scare the crows away. Screaming, crying, until finally the heat, the sun, the lack of water and food got the better of his mentor. The brief vision of a raven plunging its beak into an eyeball, while its owner's head nodded limply against the iron bars, came back to him and he flinched when Stephen's voice tore him away from his memories.

“I'm thinking…”

The old man chuckled. “By the look on your face, I’d say it's not really working out for you…”, he mumbled, dreading the captain's reaction to his joke but he was rewarded with a smirk. The first genuine smile he had seen on Bonnet’s face since he was back on board. Silence briefly fell between them, just when someone yelled a few feet away.

“No stamps!”, Boyle barked angrily before Brianna could even claim her right to stomp on his fallen chestnut. “You think you can get me that easily, woman?”

“Pick it up and fight, you idiot!”, a sailor bellowed. “I bet three weeks’ pay on your victory!”

“In that case, _you’re_ the idiot!”, another said, causing the audience to laugh.

Murphy smiled and shook his head. Beside him, Stephen looked lost in his thoughts again and his right hand unconsciously played with Brianna’s signet ring on his left ring finger. “I'm going to propose to her”, he announced bluntly. There was not the slightest emotion in his tone. No excitement, no doubt, no apprehension. He wasn't asking for anyone’s approval. It was a fact. A simple and obvious fact. He was going to propose to Brianna and nothing or no one could talk him out of it. The carpenter raised his eyebrows and straightened up a bit. Of course, that was a reasonable decision and any woman stuck on a ship with so many men would certainly have asked to be wed a long time ago, if only to preserve her reputation and honor. But this girl was different. Murphy felt she wanted to be free and such a solemn union was not necessarily her conception of freedom.

“Does she… know?”

Stephen's shifty gaze and pursed lips answered for him before he could even speak. “She gave everything up to follow me. At this point, the wedding is just a formality.” Again, his tone was final. “She's already mine; she chose me against her family's advice. There is absolutely no reason for her to refuse. If she doesn't want to marry me, on the other hand, I'll know that whatever comes out of her mouth is just hot air.”

He was speaking matter-of-factly, but Murphy knew that deep down, Bonnet was panicking. Was he trying to convince himself that a marriage would ease his recent anxiety? Or did he just fear that she would disappear from his life overnight? Either way, he was acting out of emotion. Something that had shaken him up recently...

“This new idea of yours... Could it have anything to do with what happened this morning? What did you see when you followed her?”, Murphy asked in a soft voice.

“I don't know what I saw…”, Stephen replied dryly, fiddling with the signet ring on his finger again. As Murphy raised his eyebrows, he added: “All I know is that once she's my wife before God, she'll have no choice but to tell me the truth.” He then took a long swig of whiskey under Murphy’s skeptical eye.

“Right, we all know the girl _loves_ to be given an ultimatum...”, the old man muttered, and the captain’s eyes immediately flashed with anger. There was no point in trying to reason with a drunken Stephen Bonnet, let alone giving him a sarcasm lesson. That’s why Murphy chose to take flight. “I think it's time for me to rest these old tired bones...”

“ _Aye_ , you do that…”, Stephen growled, throwing his bottle back one last time to finish it.

Murphy stood up with a groan, his aging joints suffering from the change in temperature and humidity between North Carolina and the Caribbean. He looked at Stephen, who was now frowning at the empty bottle.

“Captain… Miss Fraser never stopped giving you new chances, no matter what you do. Don't mess it up.” _Again_ …, he added internally.

“Good night, Mr. Murphy…”, Bonnet muttered, as the old man smiled wearily.

“Good night, captain.”

The carpenter slowly walked away, saying one last goodbye to those who would be leaving the next morning, and disappeared down the stairs that led to the crew quarters. With an annoyed sigh, Bonnet threw his empty bottle onto the steerage floor, before a series of disappointed and cheerful howls almost burst his eardrums. Looking up at the players, he saw Boyle dropping to the floor, with a dramatic roar, as Brianna was jumping up and down, her arms raised and her unharmed chestnut dancing at the end of its string. Leaning against the railing, Doherty was calculating every amount won (or lost) by the various gamblers with a satisfied nod.

Brianna's cheerful cries suddenly grew louder when the first mate, who had just won the tidy sum of thirty pounds, lifted her off the ground to carry her like a bride. The young woman was laughing, throwing her head back and Stephen felt his heart explode in his chest. Murphy's words had affected him more than he would have liked and he almost blamed himself for being so harsh and distant with her all day long. As a result, she addressed her smiles and cheerfulness to the other sailors. And he could not stand it. He never could, to be honest. From the very beginning, when he caught her confiding in Jimmy or joking with Boyle and O’Brien, he had felt the need to stop her. So that she would entirely belong to him. But it was neither healthy nor reasonable.

The best thing to do, rather than brooding in a corner, was to join them. That way, she would be smiling at him too. Moreover, he already knew that he had a special place in her heart, he didn’t need anything more than that. He couldn't afford to waste another chance.

Seeing his captain get up and walk towards them, O’Brien found it wiser to put Brianna down. The girl was so delighted to see him finally join the festivities, that she decided not to go back on his strange behavior and greeted him with a radiant smile. “I’ve discovered a new talent tonight!”, she exclaimed, waving the chestnut under the pirate's nose.

Stephen raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Another one!”

On the floor, Boyle had spread out his arms and groaned. “You, evil traitress! How could you do this to me…? I have always been kind to you!”

Brianna turned her back on Stephen and leaned over the sailor, reaching out a hand to help him get up. “Come on, Mr. Boyle, this is just a game. No hard feelings.”

But he ignored her outstretched hand and let out a heartbreaking sigh. “No. Leave me alone. I'll just stay here and think about what my life has become.”

“Here’s one young man who could use a little comfort...!”, a female voice called from the dock.

Alerted by the sailors’ noise – and also by the jingling of gold coins passing from hand to hand – a few harlots had climbed up the gangway to gather on the steerage, swaying their hips to attract the customers’ attention. Drunken pirates were generally generous and tonight, most of the _Gloriana_ ’s crew were very, very drunk. Boyle jumped up, staring at the curves and brown skin of the pretty mestiza who had just spoken to him, and immediately stood up with a satisfied smile.

“What? You’re already done thinking about what your life has become?”, O’Brien sneered, as his own gaze rested on a young woman, whose face and bare arms were studded with freckles. The girl bit her lip and smiled mischievously at him, pretending she hadn't noticed the thirty quid that were now swelling the first mate’s purse.

“What do you want me to say? I’m fast!”, Boyle retorted, as Doherty broke into a smirk.

“ _Aye_ , that’s what the ladies say about you too...”

But Boyle was no longer listening. He was already leaving the _Gloriana_ to follow his beauty to her brothel. O’Brien straightened his waistcoat and strode towards his evening conquest as well, soon imitated by other sailors.

“Wow… So romantic...”, Brianna muttered, almost embarrassed to see all these people slipping away to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh. Doherty stood up as well, patting her on the back as he walked by.

“Not everyone lives in your fairy tale, Miss Fraser…”, the quartermaster quipped before disappearing in turn.

Brianna laughed sarcastically and saw Stephen staring at her intently. No, their story was nothing like a fairy tale. Yes, she had found love under unexpected and strange circumstances, but their story was full of drama and had begun when Stephen had bought and held her prisoner for weeks. She didn't know a lot of tales that started out that way… _Well, maybe some kind of twisted Beauty and the Beast-Treasure Island crossover_ …

All the girls had found a client, and the steerage was somewhat emptied of its occupants, except for the men who were too drunk, too old or too tired to keep up. Well, almost all of them. One of the harlots, who seemed hardly eighteen years old, was still there, looking at Jimmy with a shy smile. But the latter, as red as a lobster, pretended to be too busy picking up Brianna’s conker and strings and putting them back in their box to notice her.

“I think that young girl is very fond of you, Mr. Walsh…”, Stephen said, smirking.

Jimmy jumped and his ears turned even redder than a second before. He looked hesitantly at the young woman, while Brianna internally shook her head at her young age. Too young for such an awful job...

“It's just… I'd rather do this with someone I… you know…”, he admitted, with embarrassment. “But maybe I will change my mind someday when I'm as old as the others...”

“I'm sure you will find someone long before that”, Brianna encouraged him gently. She refused to let the poor teenager feel bad just because he hadn't given up on finding love yet. And if she heard any sailor laughing at him about it, she would surely box his Irish ears.

On the gangway, the young prostitute seemed to understand the message and gave him a sad smile before turning away. Jimmy's face fell and he turned to Brianna with wide, worried eyes. “Wait… I don’t want her to believe I said no because I think she’s not pretty enough! She surely _is_... Oh Lord, what did I do?”

“You can always go and explain it to her, if it bothers you that much”, Brianna said, literally melting. Hardly had she finished her sentence, when the young boy rushed after the prostitute to clear up the misunderstanding. Brianna saw him take her hands in his own, say a few words to her, then the girl gave him her most beautiful smile and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

The teen walked back to the _Gloriana_ , his cheeks a bright shade of red, and was about to bring Boyle's box back to the crew quarters when Brianna jumped and hugged him tight. “Promise me you'll never change”, she squeaked emotionally, ignoring Stephen's slightly jealous gaze. “You are the nicest boy ever to walk the Earth. I mean it.”

Jimmy blushed even more when Brianna finally let go. “I'll do my best. Good night, Miss Brianna. Good night, Captain”, he finished, turning to Bonnet, who just nodded.

He disappeared down the stairs and Brianna came back to snuggle up against Stephen. “It's a miracle he's become so adorable and polite when you see who he’s living with…”, she sighed against the pirate's chest, a half-smile floating on her lips.

Stephen groaned, annoyed by the innuendo, but he didn't answer. She giggled and hugged him a little more, admiring the reflection of the moonlight on the water. Now that they were finally quiet, she felt it was a good time to reassure him and clear up the misunderstanding of the morning. Stephen had to realize that she wasn't going to disappear anytime soon and what better time to explain it to him than a sweet cuddle under the starry sky? Looking up, she smiled softly at him and he frowned, realizing that she was about to say something important.

“You don't have to worry, you know… Just because every once in a while I go on a walk alone, it doesn't mean I'm going to abandon you. Not now that I feel like I belong here, with you.”

She had said it all in a whisper, her hands gently resting on the Irishman's chest. But she was unable to read the emotions in his green irises. There was determination. Fear, perhaps? Or doubt? One thing was for sure, he wasn't telling her everything. So she pursed her lips, dreading the moment he would open his mouth to explain. Which he did, after a long silence.

“I know…”, he breathed with another frown. “I'll just feel better once things are clear between us.”

“What do you mean…?”

She pulled away from him slightly to get a better view of his face. But his expression wasn’t as enigmatic as it had been earlier and Brianna had an unpleasant feeling of _déjà vu_. As if she had lived a similar situation before, with someone else... The look Roger had given her at the Scottish Festival less than a year earlier, she could see it now on Stephen's face. That same look he had just before he screwed it all up… O _h no_ … Brianna tensed immediately as she understood what was about to happen and took a step back, but it was too late. Stephen had grabbed her wrist and said the words.

“Marry me.”

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Uh-oh… I smell trouble! We know how Brianna reacts to wedding proposals, what do you think she will do this time? I also hope you enjoyed this short recreational time with the crew, I had a lot of fun making them fool around like kids. The situation might go ugly in the next chapter, though...**

**I can’t wait to read your comments and until then, I wish you a wonderful week! See you next Monday!**

**Xérès**


	30. An Mhaighdean Mhara

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Aaaand here is THE answer of the (perhaps) future (ex?) Mrs. Bonnet…**

**Thanks all of you who read, commented and kudozed last chapter!**

**oOo**

  1. _An Mhaighdean Mhara_ (The Sea Maiden)



« Marry me. »

It was an order. Not a question. No “Will you marry me?”, let alone “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”. Only two words, including an imperative form. At least Roger had been thoughtful enough to _ask,_ to give the illusion that he was allowing her to choose between two options. But Stephen was true to form. The captain didn't ask questions, he ordered and people obeyed. _Marry me_.

Still in shock at the announcement, Brianna remained silent, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open. But despite the space between her lips, no breath of air seemed to go in or out. She had simply stopped breathing. Stopped thinking. And she wouldn't even have been surprised to learn that her heart had also stopped beating. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity and with the pirate's darkening eyes on her, Brianna took a step back. “I… I didn't think you were the marrying type…”, she stammered, embarrassedly.

“Me neither.” His slightly annoyed tone made Brianna shudder; she _knew_ an argument was coming her way and she couldn’t do anything to stop it. “Let's say that I recently realized that it was time for me to live differently. But on the sole condition that you solemnly swear to stay by my side.”

She pursed her lips again, sick at the mere idea of what could happen if she rejected his offer. Of course, she wanted to live with him more than anything. But the prospect of making such a promise in front of witnesses – and the impossibility to back-pedal even if they hurt each other – terrified her. She had always thought that it wasn’t the kind of life or relationship she wanted. Not to mention the teeny tiny time travel problem. “Stephen, I...”

A cold sneer escaped the Irishman's mouth and he shook his head. “That’s what I thought…”  
  
Before Brianna could react, he walked around her and strode over to the gangway, then to the dock. The expression on the young woman's face had told him everything he wanted to know. Her embarrassment, her hesitation, the unclear answer, the guilt on her face when she had stepped back out of his reach… Everything about her had set off an uncontrollable rage in him. Towards her, but also himself. He was angry with himself for hoping. Hoping he would be more than a fling to her, a crazy adventure, whose memory she would cherish when her daily life would become too boring. In a few seconds he had left the galleon and was walking up the docks as if the Devil himself was chasing him. He had to get away from her now, to think and decide if he could still stand the sight of her after such a disappointment. But Brianna was already on his heels.

“Wait!”, she called out, running to catch up with him. “Why the rush? We just got back together, you're still weak after what Tryon did to you… We should take our time… and marriage is nothing more than a piece of paper…”

Stephen stopped so abruptly that she almost crashed against him, but she instinctively took a step back as he turned to her. His green eyes were flashing and she could feel anger dripping through every pore of his skin. Brianna would rather not imagine what he was thinking right now; the memories of the tortures he had endured for her, all of this for what? _To be rejected like trash_. He had every reason to be angry but unfortunately, she couldn't tell him the whole truth yet. Not unstable and fragile as he was now.

“You left your family for me… You became an outlaw for me… You pretend you want to stay by my side no matter what… So tell me, darlin’, after everything we’ve been through, if marriage is just a piece of paper as you say, what difference would it make?”

The aggressiveness in his last sentence was like a knife through Brianna's heart. Why couldn't he just enjoy the moment? Why did he always have to believe that the whole world was trying to betray or deceive him? _It’s the torture. It shook him a lot more than he cares to admit_ …, Brianna thought, staring at him sadly.

“The answer would be ‘none’...”, he hissed, glaring at her, “... if you really intended to stay.”

“It's not that simple”, Brianna stammered, her voice almost pleading.

“Explain to me, then.”

“I can’t.”

Stephen shook his head and silence fell between them, occasionally disturbed by the lapping waves below. Brianna reached out to him, hoping he would let her hand rest on his chest – calming him down, bringing him to his senses – but he backed off. “There are too many things you can't explain, darlin’. Why you don't want to marry me... Why you sneaked up to have a look at those giant stones instead of taking a walk around town…

Brianna’s eyes widened. She was sure she had mentioned a cave, but not the megaliths. It could only mean one thing. “Did you follow me...?”, she breathed slowly, as if she couldn’t believe it.

Stephen shrugged and spread out his arms. “You’re leavin’ me no choice… That’s what I have to do to figure out what's in your head.”

“Wow…” Brianna took a deep breath, still shocked by his confession. It would probably mean nothing to any other girl, but to her, who had spent the entire morning enjoying her freedom and this new trust between them, it was a huge disappointment. He had followed her to the stones. And maybe even back in town. _The figure on the beach_. She had thought it was a woman at first, but maybe she was wrong? And that scream in Abandawe? Was it him as well? Brianna could no longer tell the difference between what she had actually seen or heard and what she was now imagining.

But even more than the fact he had spied on her, it was this setback in their relationship that hurt her the most. He didn't trust her completely. He got angry and watched her every move, just as he did in Philadelphia or anywhere else for that matter. Their relationship would have no future under these conditions... and she knew it.

“That's all you have to say… I would be lying if I said that I’m surprised…”, Stephen snarled. “For the first time in my life, I thought I could trust someone other than myself… But obviously I was wrong.” He got closer to Brianna and brutally grabbed her chin between his fingers. But even if the way he touched and looked at her was aggressive, Brianna could feel his pain. “I should have fucked you and sold you to MacNamara, before I-”

Stephen froze. He had almost said it. _Before I fell in love with you_. Those words he never thought he would say to anyone in his entire life, had almost came out of his mouth. But he wouldn't lower himself to say them now, after such a betrayal. And no matter how many tears her big blue eyes would shed, he wouldn't take a single word back. Brianna, on the other hand, was losing patience. Of course, she knew Stephen's behavior was not rational and it was just the aftermath of torture and detention, that had given rise to this absurd paranoia... But even if she was aware of this fact, he had crossed a line. What Stephen thought she had given up for him was just the tip of the iceberg. She hadn't just left her mother, father, and aunt. She had given up on her era, her Boston home, her graduate internship. She would never live a modern life, own a bank account, be an engineer, or give birth with an epidural, survive breast cancer and all those things that eighteenth century women didn’t even know existed. And now he had the nerve to say she was neither trustworthy nor serious about their relationship?  
  
“You have no idea how many sacrifices I made _and_ keep on making every day for you! All the things I left behind just to _be_ with you!”, she barked. A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away angrily.

Stephen let go of her chin and gave her an almost contemptuous look. “If this is so difficult for you, why are you staying?"

“Because I love you!”

Brianna’s eyes widened with surprise. The words had come out unexpectedly. She had always thought the first time she said them would be perfect. Romantic, sweet. Quite the opposite of now. Stephen’s expression was almost comical, he seemed as surprised as she was by her violent declaration, yelled out in the middle of the night. _Fuck this. I’ve started, now I’ll finish_...

“I love you so much that I thought my heart had stopped beating when I heard you were sentenced to death. I love you so much that I didn't even think of all the people who could be hurt during the Regulators’ attack, because all that mattered to me was to save _your_ life…” Her hand squeezed Stephen's waistcoat and she tried to get closer to him. He was gradually calming down and she hoped that he would eventually take her in his arms and apologize. “And I love you so much that I left my father after crossing the entire Atlantic to meet him...”

She realized her mistake when Stephen's body tensed again. “You are from Boston. Why would you cross the Atlantic?”

Panic must have been so visible on Brianna's face, that the pirate's anger soared again. As usual, she was hiding the truth, but this time she had betrayed herself. She was lying to his face and he had caught her red-handed. Or maybe it was the truth this time, if the lie was what she had told him when they first met. It didn't really matter anymore, to be honest. Her emotional and upsetting “I love you” still echoed in his head, but he couldn't believe a single word that came out of her mouth anymore. He ignored the small voice in his head reminding him that he had also told his share of lies himself – including his initial arrangement with MacNamara – and shook his head.

“Stephen…”

He didn't give her time to say anything else. He was drunk, angry and devastated, and his dark side took the opportunity to rear its ugly head. Grabbing Brianna by the back of her neck, he leaned over her ear and whispered in a horribly sweet voice:  
  
“You should go to bed, darlin’. Maybe I’ll have my way with you one last time before I leave you on this damn island.”

And with those words he turned and disappeared into the night, leaving Brianna in tears and alone on the deserted dock.

~o~

Stephen didn’t come back at all that night, just like when he had intentionally slept in a tavern in Philadelphia for fear the situation would escalate between them. For fear of hurting her. Yet this time, Brianna would have sold her own grandmother to see him. After he had sobered up, of course, and begged her for forgiveness. She would cry and hug him, kiss him passionately, tell him that everything was already forgotten. Curled up on their bunk and hugging her tear-soaked pillow in her arms, she imagined a thousand ways they could make it up but the cabin door never opened.

She didn’t want to tell him the truth when he was still so fragile. A truth that had destroyed a man as stable and strong as Frank Randall... she dared not imagine the consequences on Stephen, who was his exact opposite. This time, however, she might only have this solution to convince him not to end their relationship. But the pirate's harsh words kept coming back to her. _I should have fucked you and sold you to MacNamara_ … Even if he had said that out of anger, could she – no, should she – forgive him? He hadn’t talked to her like that for a long time; since her first weeks on the ship, actually. More sobs escaped her throat at the thought and she hugged her pillow a little closer against her mouth to muffle them.

She barely slept that night, alternating periods of sleep and tears like a newborn baby. When she felt strong enough to leave the cabin, the sun had been up for a long time and the sailors had already cleaned up the remnants of their night of drinking. The steerage was clean again and life was back to normal. _Almost_ …

“Finally! We were getting worried!”, said O’Brien's mocking voice behind her back. Brianna turned slowly and saw the first mate's cheerful expression disappear at the sight of her swollen red eyes. “Oh dear.”

“Yeah...”, she whispered weakly before screwing up her courage. “Where's Stephen?”

“He’s not with you?”

Brianna stared at the young man. “No. He didn't come back last night. We had... a small disagreement. Wait, he’s not here?”

“No one saw him since we left with the girls. We thought you were both in your cabin.” O’Brien bit his lower lip, suddenly worried. “This small disagreement… What was it about?”

“I don't wanna talk about it”, Brianna replied hastily, as Murphy approached with a frown.

“Is there a problem?”

“The captain is missing...”, O’Brien replied before discreetly glancing at Brianna. “A 'small disagreement', she said.”

Against all odds, the old carpenter sighed: he didn't seem in the least surprised at the girl’s gloomy face. “He asked you, didn't he?”

The young woman's jaw dropped limply towards her chest. “You knew?”

Next to them, O’Brien looked completely lost. “Asked what?” But the other two ignored him.

“Don't look at me like that, Miss Fraser, I told him it was a very bad idea but he wouldn't listen to me…”, Murphy said, raising both hands in front of him. So, this marriage proposal didn’t come out of nowhere. Stephen had been brooding about it for some time and even told the old man. As for O’Brien, he was getting impatient.

“When you’ve both had enough talking in riddles, you let me know...”

Brianna took a deep breath and turned to him. “Stephen asked me to marry him.” _Ordered me to marry him would be more correct_ , she added internally.

O'Brien's face first lit up with a broad smile, before he remembered that the captain seemed off the face of the Earth and Brianna looked like someone who had wept buckets of tears. “Why do I feel like this is not good news?”, he asked as Murphy nervously scratched his bald head in silence and the young woman looked down shamefully. “Did you jilt him as well?” O’Brien shook his head, remembering that she was not new to this game. “What is wrong with you? Do you want to end up a spinster?”

“Excuse me?”, Brianna protested. His aggressive tone had surprised her at first, until his sad love story seven years earlier came back to her mind. He was probably projecting his frustration onto her.

“You are both crazy in love with each other; everyone here knows it almost since day one… You seduced the only man in the world I thought unable to love a woman and now you’re letting him down?”

“I'm not letting him down! Is it so unbelievable to love someone without actually wanting to marry him?”, Brianna spat, as Murphy held out his hand to calm them down. But she already felt tears fill up her eyes at the thought of arguing with one more person about _the same fucking subject_.

“Of course! That doesn't make any sense!”, O’Brien barked, clenching his fists. She obviously could not expect an eighteenth century mind to understand or condone the concept of love out of wed-lock. But she had hoped it would be different among pirates. _Well, I was wrong_. Around them, the crew started glancing curiously at them and a few whispers could already be heard.

Brianna was looking for a way to defuse the situation when the first mate strode away. “Where are you going?”, Murphy asked.

O’Brien stopped, one foot already on the gangway, and turned to them, his face distorted with anger. He, who was always even-tempered, had just changed completely. “Looking for him! Hoping he didn't throw himself off a cliff or drown in a barrel of rum...”

“Stephen would never do that”, Brianna protested weakly. But he was so fragile since he had escaped, not to mention the whiskey he had drunk the day before. And she could feel that O’Brien was thinking the exact same thing. The first mate turned his head and placing two fingers between his lips, he whistled loudly before nodding towards the harbor. He didn’t even have to speak: Boyle and Doherty emerged from a group of sailors and followed him on the docks. Brianna was about to follow them, but Murphy's thick callused hand rested on her shoulder to hold her back.

“I think it's best that you stay here, this time…”, he whispered as she lowered her nose, once again on the verge of tears. Even though he knew that this marriage proposal was overhasty knowing the girl’s character, he couldn't help but feel sorry for his young captain. He tensed slightly as a dull pain pierced through his rib cage, just above his stomach, but he ignored it and patted Brianna’s shoulder to comfort her. The girl wiped her tears away with her sleeve and sniffed loudly.

“I'm afraid... that I've ruined everything...”

“I'm not sure it's entirely your fault, to be honest…”, the old man said with a sad smile. “The captain has always been unable to fully trust anyone. Even well-meaning people…”  
  
“I know I can be secretive and… strange sometimes…” Another sob. “But have I ever done anything that would justify his distrust of me? Everything I've done was in his best interests, sometimes even putting his best interests above mine!”

“Well, it's hard to believe when you’ve been betrayed by your peers your entire life... Unfortunately for him, whenever he touches happiness, all he can think about is how it will be taken from him and by whom”, Murphy sighed.

Silence fell between them and O’Brien’s last words echoed in Brianna’s mind like a sinister death knell. “Mr. Murphy… Do you think he might actually… like Mr. O’Brien said…?”

“End his life? I don't think so”, the old man said reassuringly. “But with alcohol and exhaustion, who knows what could happen to him...” At his words, Brianna seemed so distraught that he added: “He’s probably sleeping it off somewhere in a stable, between two bales of straw. He has seen worse...”

“Worse than falling in love for the first time and being rejected when he proposes? I have doubts...”

 _Maybe not_ , Murphy thought sadly. But he had survived quite a lot of alcohol poisonings. A good day's sleep, plenty of water, a solid meal, and he would get over it. As for the rest, however... it would be a different kettle of fish.

Neither Stephen nor the three sailors looking for him reappeared all day. Brianna had started pacing up and down the harbor, with a lump in her throat, before going back to the _Gloriana_ in the late afternoon to drop onto their bunk. During her long walk on the docks, she had thought about a way out of this situation without anyone suffering and she had come to one possible conclusion: she had to tell Stephen why the idea of getting married was upsetting her and she would have to be as clear as possible. She could slip in a few things that would prepare the pirate for the whole Truth – as she would certainly tell him everything one day, when he’s ready. That way, the day he knew the whole story, each part of the puzzle would fit together smoothly. If Jamie had been able to understand the concept of time travel, an Irishman whose culture was steeped in mystical legends should be able to get it.

Exhaustion soon got the better of her and she fell asleep, only waking up after dark. The cabin was plunged into darkness and big black clouds coming from the ocean had swallowed the moon itself. Rubbing her red and sore eyes, she stood up and dragged her feet into the corridor. She caught a glimpse of O’Brien making his way towards the crew quarters, but when he saw her the first mate hissed disapprovingly and disappeared into the first corridor he found to avoid her. _Great_. _Now, he hates me too_ …, Brianna thought, giving up the idea of asking him if they had found Stephen. If even the crew turned their backs on her, the regression would be total. And this time, the only person she was sure would support her was Murphy. And maybe Jimmy. _Ah, the irony_...

But she was soon proved wrong when she arrived on the steerage and the sailors greeted her as usual. Boyle was eating his ration in a corner and she was about to join him when he tilted his head to the right, pointing at the bow of the _Gloriana_. Brianna immediately understood the message and her heart began to race. Stephen was back. She rushed to the ship’s bow and sighed in relief. With his back propped up against the bowsprit and sitting on the railing, one leg hanging above the water, Stephen was staring into the darkness. Brianna briefly saw his eyes turn towards her when he sensed her presence, then roll in their sockets before settling again on the ink-black waves. Brianna screwed up her courage and approached slowly, until she could put her hands on the railing next to him. As he didn't move or speak, Brianna took a deep breath and broke the silence.

“I'm sorry…”, she mumbled, waiting for his reaction, which didn't come. “Last night, you caught me by surprise and I… panicked.” Still nothing. If the breeze had not lifted a few blonde hair escaping from his ponytail, she might have thought he had turned into a marble statue. She pursed her lips and tried to lighten up the mood. “If that makes you feel better, when Roger asked me, it went even worse than that...”, she blurted out with a high-pitched laugh, but Stephen didn't show a single emotion, not even a sidelong glance towards her. This started to annoy Brianna, who narrowed her eyelids, searching for a way to provoke a reaction. Anything. “All right, we both handled this very badly last night… so, could we talk about it like grown-ups?”  
  
No answer, no look, no nothing. If he wanted to play that game with her, he would definitely lose. If there was one quality Brianna was proud of, it was her stubbornness. She turned to lean against the railing and let out a long sigh.

“What a wahnderfoehl idea, darlin’. And while you’re at it, please explain why you’re so afraid o’ gettin’ married…”, the young woman suddenly mocked in a deep voice, with a heavy (and very bad) Irish accent, before responding to herself with her normal voice, although slightly higher: “Oh, of course, my beloved pirate, if you insist!”  
  
This time there was a slight twitch in Stephen's jaw, but it was impossible to tell if he was holding back a smile or just trying not to yell at her. It didn't matter. What mattered was that he was listening to her. Brianna slid down the railing, until her butt touched the ground, and rested her hands on her knees. Now she had to deliver the most convincing speech of her entire life while carefully avoiding supernatural details. It would be difficult but not impossible.

“Frank and my mother were only recently married when they were separated…”, she began, intentionally evasive. “I'm not sure what happened but at some point, my mother got lost in the middle of the Highlands. The Scots thought she was an English spy and the English were looking for her to question her about the Jacobite rebels who had taken her in. That's where she met Jamie… my dad. They got married quickly so that my mother wouldn't be forced to testify against the MacKenzie-Frasers if the English ever got a hold of her. They fell head over heels in love with each other and lived together for three years before my mother got pregnant with me. Just when the Jacobite rebellion was taking an even more violent turn. Jamie was determined to get my mother to safety but still refused to let the other rebels down. Just before the battle of Culloden, my mom agreed to run away and Jamie went to fight. Almost all Jacobites died on the battlefield, and Jamie was reported missing the next day. Devastated, my mother returned to England on her own and found Frank, who had never stopped looking for her. Despite the fact that she was pregnant with another man’s child, he refused to give up on her and they both decided to cross the ocean, make a fresh start.”

Brianna looked up briefly at the pirate but he was still motionless.

“Unfortunately, my mother was inconsolable without Jamie and Frank had just… lost his place in her heart. But I was there and he raised me with all the love he was capable of. He never failed me as a father, despite a wife who refused him and a girl who was not of his blood. I could hear them quarreling in my bed at night. I thought all married couples were like them and I kept telling myself that I’d rather not get married if it meant spending my time yelling at the man.”

She laughed bitterly and shook her head.

“When I was eighteen, my father started drinking more and more, coming home late, sometimes even sleeping in his Harvard office. The situation with Mom was more tense than ever and I later found out that he had in his possession documents proving that Jamie Fraser was still alive. He probably wanted to hide it from Mom, for fear that she would leave him for good. One day, he drank more than he should and told me that he wanted to start a new life with another woman he had met. I had... a violent reaction. I hated him for doing this to us, to our family. I called him names and ran away. He killed himself right after that.”

She paused for a moment to take a deep breath. Even after all this time, telling that part was excruciatingly painful.

“That's when I found out he wasn't my real father and I resented my mother for destroying our family. It wasn't really her fault, but I guess I needed... someone to blame.” She let out a long sigh and let her head fall back against the railing. “All this to say that, from what I’ve seen, marriage is closely related to suffering and since divorce is still prohibited by law... I thought it best to avoid it.”

Silence fell over the bow and Brianna shyly looked up at the pirate. He had finally moved and was looking at her.

“What makes you think it will be the same for us?”, he mumbled, his left leg swaying nervously above the water. “We are not them and they are not us.”

The redhead almost broke a triumphant smile when she finally heard him speak but hid it all behind an adorable pout. “We don't know that... But we barely said the word 'marriage' and we already ended up quarreling.”

A slight hiss came from his nose and Brianna knew without even looking at him that Stephen had chuckled. This time, she couldn't help but smile and got up, resting her hand on his.

“I've thought about it”, she said, lowering her eyes, “and I'm ready to accept if you agree to a few minor conditions.”

“Why am I not surprised ?”, Stephen mocked with a half-smile. “What conditions?”

“Well… we're pirates, aren't we? We don't live like everyone else…”

The Irishman bit his lip to hold back a laughter at the use of the pronoun ‘we’. “So it seems.”

“Then why should we get married like everyone else?” She saw him scowl and added: “We could do something more like us, something more casual, … less conventional. We would promise to be faithful, treat each other with respect and as equals… Never to hurt each other...”

“Correct me if I'm wrong, darlin’, but it sounds a lot like conventional marriage”, Stephen interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“No, absolutely not. It’s very different.”

“Hmm hmm?”

Brianna bit her lip. “It's different because in this version, if one of us has had enough one day, the other will have to let him or her go.” The pirate’s face froze, as if what he had just heard confirmed his greatest fears and the young woman quickly reassured him. “In case our feelings change over time. We don't know what can happen. I have seen what two people can do to each other if forced to live together when nothing’s left between them. It’s painful. Very painful. And I love you too much to let this happen to us.”

Stephen recoiled slightly and looked uneasy for a moment. She had repeated _the words_. And this time in a much more believable way than before. He had no doubts about her feelings: he had been seeing them in her eyes for a long time, since that violent storm that had nearly killed them two months earlier. But he had never let her utter the fateful words, as if saying them out loud made any reversal impossible. At the time, it had made sense to him to keep her from saying it: he had planned to abandon her in order to protect her from MacNamara and later, he had thought that she would never choose him over her family. Their relationship seemed pointless back then. But today, MacNamara was out of the picture and she had left everything behind to follow him. For the first time since they had met, they were free to live as they pleased. Free to embrace their feelings. However, something – he didn't know what – was still preventing him from saying it back and he just smirked.

“I guess O'Brien could do it...”, he blurted out, narrowing his eyes. “Usually, it's the captain's privilege, but I can't decently marry myself…”

Brianna's face lit up and she nodded. “Excellent idea! No church, no priest, just us, the crew and I guess… a few barrels of whiskey and ale.”  
  
“Ale? At my wedding? I feel offended…”, Stephen grumbled, shaking his head.

She shrugged. “All right, no ale, then… and no white dress either.” Noticing the look of disbelief on the pirate’s face, she went on: “The color white is supposed to symbolize purity, virginity and all that nonsense... I don't like that and I'm pretty sure that everybody on this ship is aware that it would be a lie.”

This time, Stephen let out such a loud and salacious snicker that Brianna turned around embarrassedly to see if anyone had heard them. When she turned back to him, the pirate was staring at her with a mocking sneer and a new twinkle in his eyes. _The words_ thronged into his throat, and he almost felt the urge to yell them to her face. For the first time in his life, he felt ready to say it. But not right now. Not this evening. Instead, he grabbed Brianna's chin between his fingers and leaned towards her lips.

“Brianna Fraser… Would you want O'Brien to unite us for an indefinite period of time, on this very ship, with no church, no priest, no white dress and definitely no ale?”

The redhead chuckled, her cheeks turning crimson and she had to struggle for a few seconds to keep a straight face. “See? When you say it like that, it's more-”

“By Danu, are you going to answer or are you waiting for Hell to freeze over?”

“Yes!”, she barked, both happy and exasperated. She shook her head and looked into his eyes, noticing how serene he was for the first time in days. And then whispered again: “Yes.”

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Phew! What an eventful chapter, but with a happy ending! The next one will be all love and sweetness, but we will also have the pleasure of meeting a new character... :D**

**I can't wait to read your thoughts on this chapter and until then I wish you a lovely week! See you next Monday!**

**Xérès**


	31. Tighinn air a' mhuir tha fear a phòsas mi

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**As promised, a sweet lovely chapter to brighten up your day in this sad period. I hope the exams went well for those who are still studying and that the others hold on! (I don’t know how you guys are doing in the big bad world, but France is about to be on lockdown AGAIN…). Anyway, I can't wait to hear your thoughts about this chapter! As for me, I smiled all the time while writing it!**

**Thanks all of you who read, commented and kudozed last chapter!**

**oOo**

  1. _Tighinn air a' mhuir tha fear a phòsas mi_ (Coming on the sea is the one I'll marry)



O’Brien quickly went down the stairs to the galleys, wondering what Bonnet was up to. He had just woken up that morning when the captain had entered the crew quarters, summoning him and a few others to meet in Flanagan's den. Around the corner of a corridor, he bumped into Murphy who was heading in the same direction, and by the time they reached their destination, Doherty, Jimmy, and the cook were already there. They all exchanged anxious glances in silence, until Bonnet finally burst into the ship’s kitchen with Boyle – who seemed as clueless as the others – and a bottle of dark rum. As soon as he got there, the captain walked over to a crate, pulled out seven tiny glasses, lined them up on Flanagan's counter, and began to fill them with rum without saying a word.

Jimmy nervously watched the liquid fill each glass and O’Brien crossed his arms on his chest, trying not to look too worried. “Isn't it a bit early for that kind of drink, Captain?”

“Help yourselves.” The pirate’s tone was final and they all reluctantly complied, not daring to drink until they were ordered to do so.

“If I may, Captain…”, Murphy started, raising his bushy eyebrows. “What are we drinking to?”

A smile crept onto the Irishman's lips and he narrowed his eyes, savoring in advance the announcement he was about to make. “Brianna and I… are getting married…”

Almost all mouths opened wide and a chorus of cheers arose in the galleys, while Boyle drank his glass down in one gulp with a sad smile. He had always had a little crush on the redhead and the sight of her naked body in the corridor, before they left Wilmington, had haunted him for many nights. Obviously, he had never tried anything for fear of being disemboweled alive by Bonnet, but now that the captain officially took her as his wife, all hope of seducing her had shattered. Meanwhile, Bonnet was quietly waiting for them to calm down, before he added: “…tonight.”

A deadly silence fell in the kitchen and it was Murphy's turn to swallow his rum in one sip, convinced that it was another whim that would bring its share of drama as soon as the young lady would hear about it. Jimmy closed his eyes and sighed, while it seemed like Flanagan’s and Doherty’s souls had left their bodies.

“If you don’t mind my asking, erm…”, O’Brien began, saying out loud what everyone was thinking, “… does Miss Fraser know about this?”

Stephen blinked slowly, winced, tilted his head with a guilty look, before he finally stopped torturing them. “Yes.”

There was a general sigh of relief and the pirate almost chuckled. Well, almost general: Flanagan and Doherty were still staring at him as if he had grown an extra head. “Tonight?”, the giant barked, as Doherty swallowed his rum.

Stephen narrowed his eyes. “What words did I mispronounced?”

“How do you expect me to cook a whole wedding dinner for fifty lads _by tonight_?”

“Do you want me to look for another cook?”, the captain retorted in a cold, drawling voice, but Doherty rushed to help his colleague.

“Mr. Flanagan, let me get my notebook and we will immediately take stock of what we already have and what we have to buy… Everything will be fine… Everything will be fine…”, the quartermaster repeated in a higher voice than usual.

“But… have you found a priest who will agree to marry you? I don’t think that Fort-Dauphin Cathedral will open its doors to our kind…”, O’Brien asked.

“No church. No priest”, Bonnet recited, thinking about last night’s unconventional proposal. He then threw a meaningful look at the first mate. “We will be celebrating this wedding aboard.”

“Ab-… But only the captain or the first mate can-”

O’Brien suddenly fell silent and his eyes widened, realizing where this was going. He began to shake his head frantically in denial. “It's impossible, I can't do this. I don't even know what to do.”

“Oh, right, because _I_ do?”, Stephen quipped, finally drinking his own glass of rum. “How many weddings have taken place on this ship, Mr. O’Brien?”

“None!”

“Exactly.” Stephen put his glass back on the counter with a light click, then patted the first mate’s shoulder. “I know you’ll do very well.” Ignoring O'Brien's extreme pallor, which lead to predict that _no_ , he wasn't going to do well at all, Stephen reached into the inside pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a notebook page folded in half, which he handed to Jimmy. “Get something for me in town, will you? Can you read the address?”

The boy unfolded the paper and frowned, mobilizing his weak reading skills to decipher the words. “Yes. I’ll find it.” Glancing compassionately at O’Brien and Flanagan, Jimmy walked up the corridors and stairs to leave the _Gloriana_ and head towards the town center. The streets were already busy on this beautiful January morning and the market place echoed with the sounds of fish, fruits and vegetables merchants, whose stalls were crowded with slaves, cooks and customers of all kinds.

Clutching the paper in his hand, the teenager crossed the market place, asked a fishmonger for directions, and wandered down the alleys. After making a wrong turn and retracing his steps, he unfolded the paper to read the name of the shop again and sighed. Without looking, he turned around and hit a pile of dirty laundry head-on. At least three or four sheets tumbled from the pile and fell on the cobblestones with a dull thud, while their owner cursed loudly.

“Damn it, I'm so sorry! Let me help you”, Jimmy stammered, leaning over to pick up the sheets. He straightened up to hand them to their owner and froze, his lips parting slightly and his lungs drained of all their oxygen. The girl in front of him had literally taken his breath away and he felt his cheeks heat up instantly. She was not exceptionally beautiful. She was even quite ordinary at first glance: blond hair pulled back in a messy bun under a white headscarf, blue eyes, a flat and slender figure under a simple handmaid’s dress. She couldn't be much older than he was. But there was something about her eyes, a cheerful spark that immediately hypnotized him. The girl probably found his glazed codfish stare amusing, and her lips stretched into a mischievous smile that completely stole Jimmy’s heart. _Is this how the captain felt when he saw Miss Brianna for the first time ?_ , the young boy wondered, as the handmaid's smile widened.

“Are you all right?”, she asked, raising an eyebrow, as if he had taken a serious blow to the head.

Jimmy opened and closed his mouth several times before finally finding the strength to make a sound. “Yes... I... Your sheets...”, he stammered, before he realized that it certainly wasn't gallant to load this poor girl like a mule. “Er... do you want me to carry these to... wherever you’re going?”

“You mean... the wash-house?”, the girl suggested mockingly. She seemed a little too pleased to see him so nervous and Jimmy blushed even more.

“Yes... the wash-house...”

The blonde straightened the remaining sheets in her own arms and nodded. “This way.” She turned into a nearby street and the young man followed suit. “So… What's your name, handsome?”

“Jim-James…”, he corrected himself. “James Walsh.”

“Pleased to meet you, James Walsh. I would have been a lot less pleased if you had knocked my sheets over _after_ I washed them, but thank God you didn't…”, she quipped. “My name is Mary...”

“Nice to meet you, Mary. How come you have so many sheets to wash? Do you work in a tavern?”

The young woman burst into a shrill laugh, which echoed against all the walls of the alley. “Almost... A brothel. I take care of the housework...”

Jimmy wrinkled his nose and quickly pulled the sheets away from his own body, suddenly aware of all the filth they must contain. “This is not a very appropriate place for a young lady...”

“It's temporary…”, Mary replied, shrugging. “In fact, I would like to find a job as a housekeeper or a governess in a respectable house. A young couple with children would be lovely. Somewhere with fewer dirty sheets to wash, if you know what I mean…” Jimmy let out a laugh when she winked at him. “Don't you have a family to suggest, by any chance?”

He shook his head. “I don't really know any families. I'm a cabin boy, on a… merchant ship”, he lied with an apologetic smile.

“Oh, how lucky you are! I wish I could roam the seven seas, without knowing where I'm going to wake up the next day…” Mary's smile weakened and a flash of sadness passed in her blue eyes, so much so that Jimmy almost felt his heart break. “Without hearing those sleazy perverts groan at any hour of the day or night... Or fearing to have to slip between the sheets as well...”

“What do you mean?”, Jimmy asked as they arrived at the wash-house. Mary dropped her sheets near the water, then freed her companion of his own pile.

“The madam… I heard her tell one of the clients that girls like me bring a lot of money the first time they… Well, you know…” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Sorry, I shouldn't bother you with my problems. Say that the sooner I get out of this dump, the better.”

“I’d offer you to sleep aboard, but I'm not sure the captain…” Jimmy froze, as if he had just remembered an important detail. The captain. The wedding. The order he had to pick up. He jumped, startling the handmaid. “Oh Lord. I have to go… ” He took a few steps away, stopped again, and turned to face Mary, his cheeks bright red. “Where is that establishment you work in?”

“Well... it’s the brothel on the harbor...”

“Tomorrow morning, I'll pick you up there. Be prepared. We will try to find you another position... But right now, I have to go.”

Mary blinked in surprise, then nodded. “All right, then. See you tomorrow morning, James Walsh.”

Jimmy smiled one last time and ran in the opposite direction, leaving the handmaid alone with her pile of laundry.

~o~

With her elbow resting on the table and her cheek propped up against her hand, wearing only her boned body and petticoat, Brianna was gazing absently at the pretty azure French dress – generously offered by her aunt Jocasta when she had left River Run – that she had chosen as her wedding attire. Still, she couldn't bring herself to put it on. Instead, she searched her mind and heart for the slightest doubt, the tiniest hint of apprehension that could bring her to her senses. But nothing came to her. She, who had always been put off by the idea of getting married, to the point of breaking up with her first love, was about to take the plunge in less than a couple of hours. With a pirate, whom her father despised, in a century that was not hers. The old Bree would certainly have run away. However, no matter how hard she tried to mull things over in her head… Not a single fiber of her being felt the need to run.

Stephen had accepted all her terms, so much so that she was not even sure this marriage was actually legal. But she didn't care. They would commit to one another, not to any god or institution, and that was everything they needed. No dishonor of not being a virgin, no judgment on what was right or wrong, no family pressure.

Her positive answer had also had an incredibly soothing effect on the pirate: apart from a few jumps during the night, for the first time since his escape, he had not once been awakened by his nightmares. Brianna could feel it deep inside her: true happiness was at hand and they were getting closer every day. Soon, Stephen’s inner demons would let go and they would be able to move on. Return to sea, perhaps? Travel the Earth in search of other treasures? Or find a little piece of heaven where they would spend their days making love...

Lost in her daydream, Brianna smiled stupidly and her cheek slipped out of her hand, making her jump and sit up straight. She had spent at least an hour imagining what their life would be like after tonight, instead of getting dressed as she was supposed to. Cursing loudly, she left her chair and finally put her dress on. The advantage of French dresses was the belly piece on which the dress was attached with discreet pins, planted in the boned body. Much easier to put on without any help. The fabrics were also lighter than English dresses, with sleeves that went no further than the elbows, and the neckline was not covered with a kerchief, which was totally useless in the tropics.

Three short knocks on the cabin door startled her and she checked one last time that her dress was properly closed before opening. It didn't matter to her that Stephen saw her in her wedding dress before the ceremony – she wasn't superstitious – but it was not her fiancé standing behind the wooden panel.

“Mr. Boyle?”, she exclaimed, seeing the young sailor on the doorstep. “Am I so late?”

“No, Miss, absolutely not… I wanted to give you something…”, he mumbled as Brianna stepped aside to let him in. He took two steps inside the cabin and extended his right hand. In his palm were a sixpence coin and a blue silk ribbon. “I didn’t know if you had it all, but at least you’ve got the sixpence and something blue _and_ new!”

Brianna smiled. “My dress is already blue and borrowed, so here I am with a new ribbon and the sixpence. I'm afraid I don't have anything old, though...”

“Of course you do... But I think you call him 'Stephen'”, he joked, lowering his tone in case Bonnet had the unfortunate idea to stand in a nearby corridor.

The young woman laughed and nodded. Stephen's unconventional lifestyle and personality often made her forget that he was ten years older than her – and at least five years older than Boyle. And yet, he was livelier and more nonchalant than most of the young men she had been introduced to in River Run. Turning to brush her hair one last time, Brianna pulled it to the side, over her left shoulder before tying it with Boyle's ribbon. She didn't have the skills or patience to try a more elaborate hairstyle anyway.

“You know, Miss…”, Boyle began, his eyes on the floor. “I'm glad the captain has finally 'cleared up' your situation... I couldn't have stood hearing people talk behind your back or think that you are a loose woman...”

“Don't worry about this, I don't care what peop-”

“I care”, Boyle said abruptly, his cheeks heating up. “And know that if he had kept on playing his little game, I probably would have... no, I certainly would have... erm, restored your honor and asked for your hand.”

Brianna blinked several times, before remembering how common it was back then to urgently marry a sinful young woman to an informed man, so that no one could question her virginity. As she couldn’t respond positively to this disguised declaration and wanted to free Boyle from this very embarrassing moment, she decided to lighten up the mood and smiled: “I believe it was my incredible skills at playing conkers that charmed you...”

Boyle chuckled and looked up at her, with a smirk. The image of her naked body in the corridor came back to his mind and there was such a lustful spark in his gaze that Brianna knew immediately what he was thinking. “That… and a few other things.” He pursed his lips and crossed his hands behind his back before leaning slightly forward. “I hope the captain makes you happy. Otherwise, you know where to find me.”

“Get out before I stamp on another of your nuts, Mr. Boyle…”, Brianna joked, as the sailor chuckled loudly.

“Chestnuts. They are chestnuts, Miss-”

“Get _out_!”

With a last laugh, Boyle left the cabin and closed the door behind him. Brianna shook her head and finished getting ready with a big smile on her lips. Boyle's nonsense had at least relaxed her and as she slipped the traditional sixpence into her shoe, she felt ready to go up the stairs for the last time as Miss Fraser. Soon, there was another knock on the door, but it still wasn't Stephen – or Boyle, for that matter. Brianna opened the door and found herself in front of Murphy, in his Sunday best, holding his arm out for her.

“You don't have to do this, I can go alone…”, Brianna stammered. With neither Frank nor Jamie by her side, she hadn't imagined for a second to appear before Stephen at another man’s side, let alone the grumpy carpenter who had disapproved of her presence aboard for so long.

“I insist, Miss. And if you don't want me to do it for you, let me do it for _him_.”

Like every time Murphy indulged in this kind of fatherly attention for his captain, Brianna's heart melted and she grabbed Murphy's arm before her brain had even officially given the order. They slowly walked up the corridor and Brianna took a long, loud breath that did not fall on deaf ears.

“If you are not sure, Miss...”

“I am!”, Brianna exclaimed, before lowering her tone. “I really am. It’s just… something I’d never felt capable of before. But there are a lot of things I did with him that I never thought I could.” She was silent for a moment and finally managed to put words to her feelings. “When I'm with him, I feel like… I'm an improved version of myself. Everything I am, everything I ever wanted to be… but better. And there is no one on Earth who has that effect on me.”

Murphy turned his head towards her, a slight smile making his bushy beard wiggle, and he patted Brianna's hand on his arm. “You are ready.”

“Who would have thought...”, she retorted with a slight laugh. They stopped for a few seconds at the bottom of the main staircase, giving Brianna time to raise the front of her dress so as not to trip over it, and soon arrived on the steerage, where the members of the crew were waiting. Those wearing hats took them off as she passed and she gave them a few shy smiles as Murphy led her this time up the stairs to the upper deck. O’Brien was standing near the helm, looking about as comfortable as an elephant in a china shop, and Jimmy was beside him smiling widely.

Two steps forward, near the railing overlooking the steerage, Stephen was waiting for her and Brianna couldn't help but hold her breath. He had swapped his usual outlaw outfit for gray-green velvet pants and jacket, richly embroidered along the buttonhole, an also embroidered waistcoat and a white scarf tied around his neck. He could almost have passed for a wealthy bourgeois if the purplish colors and the wounds on his fingers were not so visible. When he saw her, his eyes lit up with greed and a satisfied smirk appeared on his lips, just like that day when he had won the auction, or when he had taken her virginity. It had always been about possession. He had bought her, but since she had never behaved like his property, he had deflowered her hoping to conquer her body if not her mind. Now that the body was won over – and so was the heart – he wanted to own everything else without actually realizing that she was giving it to him of her own accord. _And after that, what will it be?,_ a small voice whispered in Brianna's mind, but she forgot it as soon as Murphy's arm gently rested her hand on Stephen's.

Their eyes met and the temperature seemed to rise a notch. Brianna's brain was playing on a loop, repeating the exact same thought ( _He is handsome... He is so handsome_...) and Stephen's must have been at a similar stage, because almost thirty seconds went by before O'Brien reminded them of his presence, clearing his throat embarrassedly.

“Gentlemen and… Miss… As you can see, we are gathered here this afternoon to celebrate the union of our beloved Captain, Stephen Bonnet, and… his carrot, Miss Brianna Fraser.”

“My _what_?”, Stephen repeated as a few fits of laughter rose all over the deck and even next to him.

“Long story. Please proceed, Mr. O’Brien”, Brianna added hastily between chuckles.

“For a reason of their own...”, the first mate winced and went on, “… they decided that this marriage should be celebrated here by yours truly, rather than in a church by a man of God, trained to deal with that kind of situation. Why do it the easy way when you can do it the hard way, right?” O’Brien rubbed his hands together as if to prepare himself for a difficult task, making Brianna chuckle again.

“The problem is... before I started working for Captain Bonnet at the age of eighteen, I had only attended two weddings in my entire life: my mother’s, when she remarried after my father’s death…. I was three years old then. And my Aunt Siobhan’s, where my uncle decided that fifteen was a reasonable age to find out how many glasses of whiskey I could drink before I passed out under the table. I may as well tell you that I have very few memories of both...”

This time Stephen's laughter mingled with that of the crew and O’Brien seemed to relax a bit.

“I therefore beg the bride-and-groom-to-be’s pardon if the protocol leaves a lot to be desired... because I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.”

“Neither do they!”, a sailor mocked on the deck, eliciting more laughs from the audience.

“Time to get serious, if you don't mind... But first of all, I think there’s a question I have to ask: if any person believes that these two should not be joined in matrimony, let him speak now or forever remain silent. In a few minutes, it will be too late...”

Out of the corner of her eye, Brianna saw a hand rise and without even looking at who it belonged to, she exclaimed with a mocking smile: “Put your hand down, Mr. Boyle!”

Stephen turned his head so quickly towards the sailor that everyone on the upper deck heard his neck crack. Boyle's hand immediately went back into his pocket, as Doherty hit his head with his small notebook – which hadn’t left him the entire day. The captain glared back at Brianna, who only smirked before motioning to O'Brien to proceed with the ceremony. The first mate shook his head with a sigh.

“Now that we're _all_ agreed on that point”, O'Brien sneered, casting an annoyed glance at Boyle, “I suggest we move on to the exchange of vows...”

At that moment, Stephen waved his hand at Jimmy, who stepped forward to hand him a small wooden box with an oversized smile. Brianna frowned, wondering where they had found wedding rings in so little time, and started back as the pirate opened the lid. There was only one ring in the box, a simple golden ring with a white diamond similar to those she had brought back from her trip to Abandawe. _The captain's share…_ , she thought, remembering how Stephen had appropriated some of her loot.

“I ordered it before our argument…”, he mumbled as she narrowed her eyes to take a closer look at the ring.

“There is something engraved in-”

“We'll see that later”, he interrupted hastily, taking the ring out of its box.  
Brianna smiled, aware that he was probably embarrassed that his intimate message could be revealed to his entire crew and she changed the subject.

“What about you? No outward sign of marital bliss?”, she taunted, ready to give him a speech about why it was unfair to be the only one proclaiming to the world that she was no longer single. But to her surprise, Stephen looked down and brushed the signet ring she had given him at Christmas, which he had instinctively slipped on his left ring finger.

“Actually, I realized that… I was already wearing mine.”

Brianna's eyes widened, her heart pounding. If she had seen such a scene in a movie or on a TV show with her best friend Gayle, they would have been squealing and giggling like idiots. But that kind of reaction was downright impossible here and she had to content herself with a small moaning sound, while looking at him in a way that would have made the gods themselves blush.

“Do you, Brianna Fraser”, O’Brien said as the young woman took a deep breath to ease the fire that Stephen's last sentence had lit inside of her, “take this man to be your husband, for better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; in joy and in sorrow and to be faithful to him alone, until death do you part?”

Stephen froze and gave Brianna a brief apologetic look. “Death or anything else...”, he added hastily, referring to the conditions she had laid out the day before.

O’Brien winced. “What?”

“I mean, we don't know what can happen! There are certainly dozens of things other than death that could do us part...”

“A lot”, Brianna sneered. To be honest, she would have said ‘I do’ without hesitation even if Stephen hadn't corrected the first mate’s question, but she decided to play the game for two reasons: first, because the fact that he had changed the question – for the sole purpose of complying to her wishes – was absolutely adorable and second, because O'Brien’s face at that very moment was priceless.

“Like what?”, the young man protested, his eyes wide. These two seemed decided to trample on all that was most sacred on this Earth.

“Well, I don't have a specific example in mind right now…”, Stephen grumbled, impatiently motioning to his first mate to move on.

O’Brien pinched his nose, inhaled, exhaled. _Children… I'm marrying two reckless children_ … “Alright then… to be faithful to him alone, until death _or anything else_ do you part?”

Brianna's cheeks hurt so much from smiling, that she had to force herself to relax before answering. “Yes, I do.” With another triumphant smirk, Bonnet slipped the diamond onto her left ring finger and waited patiently for O'Brien to speak again.

“Do you, Captain Stephen Bonnet, take this woman to be your wife, for better, for-”

“I do”, the pirate interrupted as Brianna giggled stupidly.

“I didn’t finish my-”, O’Brien began, getting a threatening look from the groom. “And I now declare you husband and wife... I guess... You can kiss the- Oh, great, you didn’t wait for that either...”

Indeed, Brianna had flown into Stephen's arms before the end of O’Brien’s sentence and was kissing him passionately as the crew cheered. A kiss that was much longer and more sensual than it should have been, and O’Brien was suddenly relieved they were not in an actual church. _Jesus, they are completely out of control_ …, he muttered inwardly as Murphy approached to give him a pat on the shoulder.

“You did very well, Mr. O’Brien…”, said the old man before he tensed slightly and coughed, his cheeks suddenly turning scarlet.

The first mate gave him a worried look. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, thank you... Everything is fine... Must be the emotion...”

The red on his cheeks was already fading and O’Brien nodded. Behind them, Jimmy filled two small glasses of whiskey which he handed to the newlyweds with a broad smile. “Let's drink to love, which is nothing—unless it's divided by two. _Sláinte!_ ”

“ _Sláinte_!”, Brianna and Stephen replied before emptying their glasses in one gulp.

Jimmy smiled at them one last time and went downstairs with O’Brien to help Doherty and Flanagan serve food and liquor to the crew. When Brianna felt they had enough privacy to unravel the mystery of her ring, she took it off and brought it up to eye level.

“I just put it on your finger and you're already taking it off…”, the pirate sneered, watching her struggling to decipher the inscription.

“Tah may eengrah leet?”, she read, atrociously mispronouncing the words.

Stephen winced and shook his head. “All right, now that you are my wife and bound to obedience… don’t you ever try to speak Irish Gaelic again.”

“Hey, you’d better teach me how to pronounce it rather than criticizing! And I don't even know what it means… ”, Brianna grumbled with an adorable pout.

Stephen's expression suddenly grew serious and Brianna caught her breath. The way he was staring at her, the deep and intense green of his eyes, his hand that was rising slowly to stroke her cheek; everything instantly gave her goosebumps.

“ _Tá mé i ngrá leat_...”, he whispered inches from her lips. A translation would have been useless. The words had rolled so smoothly over his tongue that their meaning was crystal clear, as if Gaelic had been her mother tongue. Carried away by this unashamedly romantic moment, she tried to repeat every sound she had just heard.

“ _Tá me i ngrá leat_ too...”

There was a twinkle in Stephen’s green irises, then a twitch in his lips, before he laughed and turned away to refill their glasses with whiskey. “I insist. No more Gaelic for you, darlin’,” he quipped.

Brianna sighed and looked at him defiantly as she raised her drink. “ _Sláinte_!”

Stephen laughed even more and clinked his own glass against hers. “Yeah, we all know you got that one right very quickly...”

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Our two lovebirds are finally married! Well, in a special way, hahaha. I hope you enjoyed this sweet interlude and that you sympathized with this poor Mr. O’Brien... x)**

**I can't wait to read your comments and until then I wish you a great week!**

**Xérès**


	32. Lem' Ais Arís

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**A small transitional chapter before we get to the last part of this story... I can't believe there are only 5 chapters left after this one. It has been almost 11 months since I started writing this story and it is almost over now… Sigh. Enjoy the sweet life of our newlyweds, after all these adventures they deserve it!**

**Thanks everyone for your comments and kudoz!**

**~o~**

  1. _Lem' Ais Arís_ (Back again)



Brianna stretched languidly, enjoying the caress of the sheets over her naked body, as Stephen rose to fill two cups with French Champagne, offered by Murphy for their wedding. _The advantage of being in a French colony_ …, Brianna thought, straightening up to grab her drink. She squirmed to tuck herself in the back of the bunk, against the hull, and struck a suggestive pose, exposing just the right amount of her private parts while bringing the cup to her lips. She smiled when Stephen's lustful look said a lot about the effect.

“What now?”, she smirked.

The pirate raised an eyebrow, mistaking her question for a salacious proposal, and took a sip of champagne. “You want to do it again already?”

“To answer your question: yes, definitely...”, she laughed, eyeing the Irishman's naked body greedily. “But mine was more general. Now that we are married and free as birds... What are we going to do?”

Stephen collapsed on the bed and Brianna immediately intertwined her legs with his, as if it was now impossible for her to separate both of their bodies for more than a few seconds. “On _that_ night when I left…”, he began, referring to the night following his disastrous marriage proposal. “Something reminded me of the promise I made to you and O’Brien.”

“What promise?”

“To get some rest for a while, stay away from the sea... until things get easier in there”, he said, tapping his temple with his index finger. Brianna nodded, inviting him to continue. “I entered the first tavern I found to drink myself to death. I sat down, ordered a bottle… There were only two other customers, at a nearby table, so even if I didn’t want to, I couldn't help but overhear their conversation.”

The redhead laid back on the mattress and snuggled up against him, not wanting to let him talk about that dreadful night again without feeling her warmth against his body.

“They were talking about a property on Cuba, a place called Cajo Babo about 115 miles east of Santiago. Big estate, a main house on the beach, countless outbuildings, but left to rot since the death of the owner. They said no one wanted to take over the estate: Santiago is several days' walk away and there are no other residents for miles around. Uninhabitable for a single family…”

  
“But not uninhabitable for all of us, with a ship at our disposal...”, Brianna finished with a smile.

“I thought maybe it was worth having a look… It's only a whole day of sailing from here…”

Brianna straightened up on one elbow. “You don't have to stop everything if you don't want to, you're already feeling a little better and-”

“Ten days ago, you and O’Brien were this close to tying me to this mattress…”

“I know... I just don't want you to feel pressured into giving up this life and end up resenting us...”

Stephen smiled and slid his hand through his wife’s crazy hair. “I need to… and I want to. As unbelievable as it sounds.”

“What do you think is most unbelievable: me, making you want to take root on a piece of land or you, convincing me to get married?”, she mocked.

With a groan, he grabbed her by the hips and toppled her over to lie on top of her, as she let out a shrill laugh. “You weren't very difficult to convince, darlin’…”, he whispered insolently into her ear.

Unfortunately for him, she answered tit-for-tat, in the same tone, as she used to do when they always tried to have the upper hand on each other. “Neither were you…”

Against the young woman’s thigh, a light pressure indicated that Stephen desired her again and Brianna bit her lip, sensually raising her eyes, provoking him even more. A second later, he had yielded to temptation.

~o~

As promised, at dawn, Jimmy had shown up at the brothel doors to find Mary. No one was waiting for him there, so he screwed up his courage and entered, surprised to see the number of customers still sprawled on the many sofas and surrounded by girls in different stages of undress. One of them walked past him, chased by a laughing old bourgeois whose white wig had slipped down on one side of his bald head. The girl's voluminous and very naked breasts bounced with each step in an almost hypnotic way and Jimmy immediately lowered his eyes, his cheeks burning red. But as he tried to avoid the bewitching movement of her nipples, he only got a breathtaking view of the limp penis of her pursuer, whose pants were pulled down to his ankles. Obviously, the last customers who had stayed until dawn were drunk enough to lose all inhibition. Unable to look ahead or down, he decided to stare at the ceiling when a whisper caught his attention.

“Psst… James Walsh… Over here!”

He turned his head to the left, then to the right, before finally noticing the worried face of the young handmaid. She was hiding behind a door that seemed to lead into a broom closet near the entrance and he noticed as he approached that she had stored a large leather satchel inside, which probably contained all of her stuff.

“You're blushing…”, Mary quipped in a low voice, glancing around the area. She looked worried.

“I’m just... I'm not used to...”

“First time in a den of iniquity?”, the teenager finished with a smile.

Jimmy blushed even more. “You could say that…”

“Too bad for you, we’re not staying... The madam knows that I am up to something, she has been on my back since last night...”

“Aren't you free to leave?”, Jimmy asked, outraged to think that the girls were being held against their will.

Mary smiled. “You're so naive, that's cute… To her, I’m just a big pile of virgin gold. Let's go before she finds us...”

The young maid grabbed the strap of her satchel but Jimmy took it from her hands and passed it around his own neck. They slipped out of the broom closet to the exit, when a hoarse female voice rose somewhere in the building, yelling in French.

“Mary! _Reviens ici, sale petite garce_!”

“Oh shit, RUN!”, Mary laughed as she pushed Jimmy towards the door. The teenagers rushed forward, bumping into a departing customer, and scampered off the alleys, laughing like children until they stopped for a moment to catch their breath.

“Do you think she's following us?”, Jimmy gasped as he scanned the surroundings.

“Not a chance… With her stiff leg and crossed eyes, she never sets foot outside her dump…”

Jimmy laughed and straightened up, readjusting the strap of the satchel over his shoulder. They resumed their walk in the streets of Fort-Dauphin, stopping here and there in taverns and pubs in search of a vacant maid or waitress position. But every time, the young woman entered, stayed there barely a minute, and came out empty-handed. The more the hours passed, the sorrier Jimmy felt for her and he soon invited her to lunch in the harbor.

He soon learned that Mary’s parents had sold her at the age of ten to a wealthy French family to become the English maid and playmate of a little girl her age. But the family had gone bankrupt and left the Caribbean, parting ways with her. At only fourteen, she had started a string of dead-end jobs, until she ended up here in the brothel.

Despite her precarious situation, the girl remained in good spirits and was excellent company. _Sparkling_ , that was the word Jimmy would have used to describe her. Funny, quick-witted… and she had that cheerful glow in her eyes, as if nothing and no one could unsettle her let alone hurt her. He felt inexorably drawn to her, not in the same way as he had been drawn to Miss Brianna – or rather Mrs. Bonnet, now. Brianna was lost, sad and distraught when he had met her and he had felt the need to reassure her, finding in her an older sister at the same time. But Mary was different. She seemed stronger, as solid as a rock, both intimidating and fascinating.

All afternoon, the same thing was repeated over and over again. Mary would walk in somewhere, disappear for a minute, and come out, shrugging but still smiling. Around vespers in the late afternoon, as the tropical sun was getting dangerously close to the horizon, they had walked all over the city in vain. Mary hadn't found any other job and Jimmy started to worry. Of course, he had saved her from the brothel, but he had also made her homeless.

“I'll leave you some money for a room in a tavern, until you find something better”, Jimmy muttered as they strolled side by side along the harbor. His remorseful expression contrasted with the serene look of the young girl beside him. “It's my fault you don't have a place to sleep anymore.”

“Keep your money, James…”, Mary sighed with a smile. “And you're wrong, I have a whole bunch of places to sleep in! On this island, there are miles and miles of beaches, covered in the softest and finest sand you’ve ever seen. And if it rains, I’ll just have to find a stable and snuggle up against a fluffy sheep… See? I’ll be fine.”

“You never give up, don’t you, Miss Mary?”

The young girl laughed and shrugged. “My situation is far from hopeless... I can always go back to the brothel, I’m sure I’ll have my job back. And if I don’t... I guess I'll have to find a husband to support me...”

Jimmy's eyes widened: these two options were – to him – far more intolerable than a night out under the stars or in a stable. _A husband_... He would have been happy to volunteer, but she would probably laugh in his face: a penniless cabin boy, sleeping in a hammock in the bowels of a ship. He didn't stand a chance. Not all women would agree to live at sea like Miss- no _Mrs_. Bria-

The young boy froze, suddenly realizing something. How could he not have thought about it earlier? It was obvious! Now that the Captain and Brianna were married, they would soon have children, and maybe even a house... _They will need a governess!_

“Come on, I just had an idea!”, Jimmy exclaimed, grabbing Mary's hand to take her to the docks. Still smiling, the young woman let herself be dragged down to the _Gloriana_. They climbed up the gangway and hardly had she set foot on the steerage when almost all eyes turned to her.

“Gentlemen!”, Mary said happily. Nothing seemed to ever intimidate her, not even a bunch of men of all ages staring suspiciously or insistently at her.

“Is the captain available?”, Jimmy asked, approaching O'Brien. The first mate was smoking a cigar with Doherty as he took stock of the food they had just loaded in the holds.

“You mean, ‘are they finally out of their room’, lad?”, Lowett sneered, a little further, as O’Brien’s lips stretched in a mocking smile around his cigar.

Jimmy blushed and gave Mary a brief apologetic look. “The captain got married last night...”

“Oh, I see…”, she said with a smirk that spoke volumes.

“You should hurry up and do the same, Jimmy, or I might try to steal your girlfriend…”, Boyle quipped as he walked past them, grabbing Mary's hand to bring it to his lips. “Nice to meet you. Aedan Boyle, your future husband.”

“Hands off!”, Jimmy protested, glaring at his colleague.

“I'm flattered, Mr. Boyle, but… I'm not _that_ desperate yet”, Mary blurted out, with such lightness and delicacy that Boyle almost felt offended.

The sailor put a hand to his heart, as if he had just been hit by a bullet, and there were a few laughs among the crew members. “Ouch…”, the young man said, staggering towards O’Brien, who was still smiling.

“You heard that? She said ‘yet’: for the first time in your life you might have a chance with a lassie!”, the first mate mocked before dodging a slap from his friend.

Jimmy sighed loudly, ashamed of their behavior in front of the first girl he was really interested in. But she didn't seem embarrassed in the least, and even chuckled at O’Brien's retort. The boy suddenly felt Murphy's heavy, callused hand on his shoulder and turned around.

“The captain is on the upper deck…”, the carpenter muttered before frowning at Mary. “I don't know what you're up to, lad, but don't build your hopes up too much. One woman on this ship is more than enough...”

“Thank you”, Jimmy hastily answered before taking Mary's hand to go up the stairs to the upper deck.

Brianna and Stephen were both leaning against the railing, reading a map that the young woman held out in her arms while Stephen pointed at something on it. “It's here. The nearest neighbors are in Imias, 9 miles west, and Rio Seco, 7 miles east.”

“I think Frank told me about a place called the Pirate's Cave, somewhere in this part of Cuba, but that shouldn't have been a solid lead because he never told me anything else about it...”

“We will have plenty of time to explore the area... Even if we will be somewhat surrounded by the jungle...”

Brianna smiled. “With the sea right outside our door...”

“At nights, we’ll open the windows and hear the sound of the waves… It will be a bit like sleeping on the ship…”, Stephen whispered into the crook of her neck and the redhead chuckled like a teenager when the pirate's breath tickled her skin. Jimmy suddenly cleared his throat, making them both jump.

The two newlyweds straightened up and whirled around, as if they had truly forgotten that they weren't alone on the planet. But even more than the shock of being interrupted while flirting, it was the presence of a young girl with Jimmy that took them aback.

“Captain… uh… this is Mary…”, the boy stammered, while Bonnet was staring at her with a doubtful expression. Mary waved her hand happily, before remembering those people might be potential employers, and gave a little bow. Brianna frowned slightly. “She's looking for work and I thought that maybe...”

“What kind of work?”, Brianna asked, a little more sharply than she would have liked. The poor child had done nothing to deserve her suspicion, but her huge smile made her uneasy, as if the girl had no manners at all.

“Oh, I can pretty much do anything. Lately, I was working in a brothel. Taking care of the laundry and doing the housework, not… actually working as a prostitute”, the blonde hastened to answer, not taking offence at the slight sneer that had escaped from Bonnet's lips, “I was also helping the girls dress up, comb their hair… taking care of their babies. I have all skills required to be a maid, ma'am. Or your children’s governess…”

 _Well, that explains the absolute lack of manners_ , Brianna muttered inwardly. “Thank you, but we don't have ch-”

“Excellent idea!”, Stephen interrupted, smiling widely at the girl, which returned it ten-fold. Brianna's eyes, on the other hand, became round like saucers. “You should know, however, that we are leaving tomorrow morning for Cuba. If you want to follow us, I suggest you bid your family and friends farewell tonight.”

“My family is on the mainland. I don't think they care if I’m on this island or another...”

“Perfect, then. Welcome aboard, Miss Mary.”

The blonde was beaming, as was Jimmy who couldn't believe he had got what he wanted without even needing to haggle. Obviously, the governess argument had hit home. Ignoring his wife's disapproving gaze, Stephen leaned over the railing as Jimmy and Mary went back down to the steerage. “Mr. Doherty! Find Miss Mary a mattress, blankets and a suitable place to spend the night.”

“I'm more than willing to share my hammock, Captain…”, Boyle said just before he gave a cry of pain. Jimmy had just kicked him hard in the shin. “Ow, you bloody little brat…”

“Suitable _and_ safe from predators...”, Stephen added with a chuckle.

The quartermaster nodded. “Sure, Captain.”

Brianna waited for Stephen to finally turn around but he took great care to immediately lower his nose into his map of Cuba, and the young woman crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought we agreed that we would never be the kind of people with household staff?”, she sulked. To be honest, she hated the idea of having to share her living space (and especially marital space) with another human being. Let alone a pretty and cheeky girl like Mary. “Besides, we don't even have a roof over our heads yet. What if Cajo Babo doesn’t suit us?”

Stephen looked up from his map and tilted his head to the side. “We'll go somewhere else…” He looked at her pout, her annoyed face and folded arms, then smirked. “Are you afraid of competition?”

“Absolutely not”, Brianna retorted, annoyed that he had been able to read her like an open book. “Besides, she's just a child. She's what… fifteen? Sixteen, at the most…”

Stephen looked at his map again, still smiling. But Brianna wasn't finished. She obviously needed to rant about their new recruit and shook her head.

“It's the way she smiles, like she's comfortable everywhere… Did you hear how she brought up the subject of children? What a nerve...”

“She just came up with the right arguments. This is all about selling yourself. You were very good at that in Kingston, or I wouldn't have spent a penny on you.” As she glared at him, he gave her a seductive wink and Brianna found herself conflicted between the urge to sulk and to tear his clothes off on the spot.

“Oh, that was easy, I just had to say the word ‘gold’ to have you come running and wagging your tail...”

Stephen chuckled and grabbed her waist cincher to pull her against him. “That and the grace with which you punched that man right in the nose…”

Brianna smiled and kissed him greedily, as the pirate's arms wrapped around her waist. She was well aware that they were behaving like teens in heat, but for the first time since they had met, they finally had the opportunity to live their love freely. And soon in a Spanish colony, not far from a cave that might conceal other riches allowing them to live decently for a long time to come. The young woman broke their languid kiss and raised her tired eyes towards his. Her wedding day and night had taken its toll on her and she could barely stand on her feet.

“I'm going to lie down for a bit before Flanagan serves dinner…”, she announced before noticing a lustful sparkle in Stephen's eyes. “Alone. Or we both know how this will end.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about...”

Brianna answered with a sarcastic laugh as she walked down the stairs and he smirked. But his smile weakened when his wife was out of sight. The little blonde had certainly been able to sell herself. The instant she had said the words “your children”, he had felt his son’s silky hair against his palm. The son his brain had created to survive torture, prison and nightmares. He had heard the rustle of the wind in the tall grass, smelled the scent of the jasmine blossoms Brianna placed in the cupboards of their imaginary house so that the linen smelled good. Two words... “your children”... and he was _there_ again. Slowly, he put his hands on the railing and closed his eyes. Soon. Soon this dream would come true, and he would be free. And the painful traces that William Tryon's abuse had left in him would disappear.

~o~

Mary opened her eyes as the floor seemed to move under her makeshift bunk and straightened up, blinking. For a second, she wondered what she was doing there, in that almost empty hold, under a few blankets with her bag as a pillow. Then the _Gloriana_ creaked loudly and she remembered. A few rays of light filtered through the portholes and she stretched her sore legs and back, before getting up. Surprisingly, neither James nor any other sailor had ventured to her hold, as she had imagined. Her experience of men might have been a bit prejudiced because of all the things she had seen in the brothel, but she had expected at least one of them to come and whisper sweet nothings to her ear. But no, they had all behaved like gentlemen. Leaving her belongings in a corner of the hold, Mary ventured down the corridor to the surface, not really knowing where the exit was. The day before, Doherty had gone down so many stairs and passageways that she had lost count. Fortunately, a known face already awaited her at the foot of the first staircase leading to the upper level.

“Good morning, Mary!”, Jimmy said, getting up from the step where he had been sitting patiently. “It’s past breakfast time, but I'll show you where to find food.”

“I'm starving…”, the young girl admitted.

“This way.” With a disarming smile, Jimmy grabbed her hand and led the girl after him down the corridors and stairs to Flanagan's lair. The cook sighed loudly and the cabin boy had a funny feeling of _déjà vu_ , smiling as he thought of the first time he had also taken Brianna to the kitchens to steal some food. But this time, he didn't have to insist and Mary was able to walk away with some biscuits and an apple. As she bit into the latter, a noise caught her attention in a nearby corridor and she stopped, her teeth still planted in her fruit.

One of the old sailors she had met the day before was leaning over a bunch of tools he had obviously just dropped. His right hand was clenched on his chest and he was wincing in pain. But as he saw Mary, he suddenly straightened up, struggling to catch his breath. They stared at each other for a moment and the teenager was about to ask him if everything was all right when Jimmy came running, surprised that his guest had suddenly stopped.

“Are you all right, Mr. Murphy?”, Jimmy asked, staring at the tools on the floor.

Murphy nodded sharply and furrowed his bushy brow. He was carefully avoiding Mary's gaze now and leaned down to retrieve his things. “I just dropped what was in my hands... I hope I haven't damaged anything...”

Mary slipped her apple into one of the pockets of her maid's apron and rushed over to help the carpenter collect the items.

“I’m fine...”, the old man muttered, waving her away with the back of his hand. The young girl took a step back, still staring at the old man with a worried expression, but he quickly walked around her and disappeared into the hallway leading to the main staircase.

“Don't worry…”, Jimmy laughed, mistaking her concern for disappointment at being scolded by a stranger. “Mr. Murphy is always grumpy with newcomers. Especially women. And after a few months, he insists on walking them down the aisle...”

But his remark didn't bring back any smile on Mary’s lips. Quite the opposite. “Isn't he… a bit old to work on a ship?”

Jimmy laughed even more. “Don't tell him that if you want to keep both of your ears glued to your scalp… Trust me, he's stronger than he looks.”

Mary was not convinced, but a single glance at Jimmy's freckled face was enough to make her smile again. Taking her hand in his, they went to the steerage to lean against the starboard rail. Fort-Dauphin gradually receded into the distance as they made their way across the bay and towards the ocean. After admiring the city they were leaving behind, Jimmy decided to give her a full tour of the ship, unaware of Brianna who was watching them from the upper deck.

“All right, I'm a tad jealous… I’ve lost my place in Jimmy’s heart…”, the young woman sighed, pouting. At the helm, Stephen laughed sarcastically as she pressed herself against him. “One younger girl is all it takes for me to be dumped like a smelly old rag…”

“Will you stop whining if I let you steer?”, Stephen asked, raising an eyebrow.

“For real?” Brianna's face lit up instantly and she slipped under his left arm to place herself between him and the wheel. Immediately, Stephen snuggled up against her back and rested his head on her shoulder.

“Put your hands-”

But Brianna had not waited and immediately placed her hands at ten past ten. “One here and one there, and I hold it straight, I know…”, she said before turning her head to savor Stephen's expression. The pirate narrowed his eyes, thought for a moment, then growled.

“I'm going to kill O’Brien.”

Brianna chuckled but didn't add anything. The feeling of being in command of the ship, with Stephen close to her and the promise of a new life just twenty-four hours away, were too exhilarating and she wanted to enjoy every second of it. But the closer they got to the mouth of the bay and to the ocean, the more the wheel vibrated under her fingers, until Stephen's hands finally came to stabilize hers, before replacing them completely when the waves started to rock the _Gloriana_ a bit more.

Once in the ocean, they sailed for a few hours along the coasts of Hispaniola, until they reached Tortuga. From a distance, the filibuster's realm hadn’t changed since their last visit, just over two months earlier, and Brianna wondered if Ayodeji had found himself a little piece of heaven as well. They would have the opportunity to discover it by themselves, though; Cajo Babo was not that far. And maybe they would find the former slave, comfortably settled and living a happy life.

Before dawn, they would arrive in Cuba, marking the start of a new chapter in their story. Would they settle in this mysterious abandoned property or somewhere else? Would they hunt other treasures? Brianna didn't know and she didn't care. She would feel at home everywhere… as long as Stephen was by her side.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Next week: Cuba! Our final destination and perhaps the little piece of heaven that our lovebirds were waiting for… I hope you enjoyed this short chapter, to know a little more about Mary and to see our wee Jimmy under her spell...**

**I can't wait to read your comments and until then, I wish you a wonderful week!**

**Xérès**


	33. Slán Agus Beannacht

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**Hey guys! Apologies for the long break, but I had to be hospitalized last week and couldn't post the new chapter! We are now going to discover _the_ mysterious Cuban property. This chapter is once again all sweet and calm ( _literally_ the calm before the storm, haha), I hope you like it!**

**Thank you all of you who read, commented and kudozed last chapter!**

**~o~**

  1. _Slán Agus Beannacht_ (Health and Blessings)



With her elbows on the rail, Brianna admired the Cuban coast stretching out before her eyes. The south-eastern end of the island was the most mountainous and least populated area. There were no vast expanses of white sand on this side, but steep cliffs surrounding a few tiny coves of sand and rocks. Beyond were green mountains as far as the eye could see, all higher than the previous ones as they sank into the land. And not a single living soul.

“I think I can see it…”, O’Brien muttered beside her, his right eye glued to a spyglass.

Brianna straightened up. “Where?”

The first mate waved her over and handed her the spyglass, which she immediately raised to her eye. Then he shifted the instrument slightly to point it straight ahead. “Follow the coast to the right. You should see the mouth of a river first, then a cove and just after that, a big house on the edge of the jungle...”

He smirked as Brianna winced against the spyglass, before her features finally relaxed. “I see it too! And there are plenty of other outbuildings all around. It looks huge...”

“Good… I like our lads, but if I could avoid sleeping with them even when I'm ashore…”, O’Brien quipped as Brianna gave him the spyglass back with a smile.

“I will make sure you get the best outbuilding, no matter what the jealous people say...”

“Yeah, you'd better… I'm the first mate, after all.”

Brianna chuckled and resumed her observation of what might soon be their new pied-à-terre. An hour later, they dropped the anchor a hundred yards from the shore and left the _Gloriana_ in the shore-boat to reach the small cove at the front of the property. The main house was surrounded by other small cabins scattered all along the beach, as well as a few others buried in the vegetation a little higher up. But no one seemed to have lived there for months. The roofs were damaged, the shutters unhinged, and the doors open to the winds. _We're going to have quite a bit of work if we want to fix it all up_ , Brianna thought with a disappointed pout.

The mansion, on the other hand, appeared to be in better condition than the outbuildings, although a major renovation was needed. Soon the boat scraped the ground and Stephen jumped out with Boyle to stabilize it. The captain then gallantly extended his hand towards Brianna to help her leave the boat with the grace required from the ladies, but she had not even seen his offered hand and had jumped off the boat to land heavily on the other side, both feet in a few inches of water. Stephen smirked and lowered his hand, shaking his head. After pulling the boat out of the water with the help of the dozen sailors accompanying them, it was Jimmy's turn to help Mary get off and the girl accepted his arm with a beaming smile.

Brianna had already set off for the house, a strange feeling in her stomach. A sense of déjà vu, of familiarity. The funny thing was she had never set foot in Cuba – let alone in her time, as the country was under an embargo since the early 1960s – and had never approached a house like this one. Made of local stone and adorned with long balconies and columns that ran along the facade, the two-story building was overlooking the whole beach. The large French windows protected by slatted shutters were for the most part closed upstairs, but those on the ground floor were open, allowing visitors to catch a glimpse of an abundantly flowered patio inside the house, around which interior galleries led to every room and bedroom, in the pure style of Spanish Baroque.

Cautiously, Brianna walked through one of the French doors, leading directly to a small living room, in which most of the furniture was covered with sheets. Rugs had been rolled up and stored in a corner, upright, and there was almost no dust on the mantelpiece whose purpose was probably purely aesthetic in these latitudes. Everything suggested that someone was still taking care of the place and Brianna deduced that the doors were opened not from negligence, but to ventilate the interior of the house.

“ _Hola! Hay alguién ahí?”,_ Brianna called, using what was left of her high school Spanish. But no one answered. Stephen entered the room and she saw him smelling the air with a troubled look… As if the heady scent of jasmine floating in the air reminded him of something specific. The scent was coming from the patio and Brianna followed it before opening her mouth wide in wonder. The inner courtyard, formerly made up of several precisely designed flower banks, had turned into a small open-air jungle, with shimmering colors. White jasmine and mariposa, red and orange hibiscus, fuchsia bougainvillea mingled with the deep green of the tropical plants, that had invaded the place in a magnificent anarchy. If Brianna had believed in God, she certainly would have thought herself dead and ascended to Heaven. Sensing Stephen's presence on her back, she turned, her eyes shining. The pirate was watching the small patch of nature in the middle of the house with the same indefinable expression.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”, she cried, trying not to dance around the place.

Stephen answered with a half-smile, as if part of him was somewhere else. And it was. The scent of the flowers had instantly transported him to his mental refuge, the house on the prairie, and he found it hard to realize that the smell was real and not some figment of his imagination. “It's… almost too good to be true…”, he huffed. This last thought said out loud made him shiver. _What if it was all an illusion? What if I was indeed dead on the gallows and all that happened next was the delirium of my dying brain?_ He bit his lip and watched Brianna walk around the patio to open a door on the other side. A kitchen, presumably, judging by the copper pots hanging on the wall.

 _“¿Quiénes son ustedes, y qué hacen aquí?_ ”, a threatening male voice said above their heads. Brianna looked up to find a Cuban in his 50s leaning over the railing on the second floor.

Stephen was about to let him know that they didn’t understand his language when Brianna answered in broken Spanish with an American accent. “ _Hola, señor! Siento molestarle… Estamos aquí para… uh… visitar la casa?_ _Si?_ ”

The man stared at her for a moment with squinted eyes, and sighed. “English people…”, he mumbled in their language.

“Irish…”, Stephen corrected abruptly in a low voice.

Another sigh. “Coming!”, he blurted out before moving away from the railing to the lower level. Smiling widely, Brianna came to stand next to Stephen.

“What did you tell him?”, the pirate asked, waiting for their host to arrive.

“I asked if we could have a look at the house...”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been hiding your language skills from me...”

“Absolutely not”, she retorted with a smirk. “I mentioned it during the auction. But you weren't listening, as usual...”

Stephen was about to tell her that she was herself not very good at listening to what she was being told, when the Spaniard appeared in the patio, wiping his hands on a rag hanging from his belt.

“So, you want to visit the property? Who told you about this place?”, the man asked, scanning them both from head to toe.

“Friends from Hispaniola…”, Stephen eluded with a fake smile.

The Spaniard didn’t seem convinced but shrugged. “I was hired by the governor to take care of the house until we found new owners. That’s why I’m here today.”

“What happened to the previous one?”, Brianna asked, glancing around in delight. She was absolutely sure that she would never tire of this wonderful patio, its divine colors and smells.

“Died a few months ago. No heir... The people he employed in the fields could not afford to buy the place and preferred to get closer to Santiago anyway. It's a very isolated place, you know... and it needs a lot of maintenance. The ocean damages materials and the island is often swept by strong storms. Maisí Point and the cliffs will protect you from the easterly wind, but the wind still blows hard every now and then…” The caretaker jumped when he heard footsteps in the small living room and turned around to see O'Brien, Jimmy and Mary enter the house.

“There are many of us and we have a ship…”, Brianna clarified with a reassuring smile. “Isolation shouldn't be a problem and we'll have enough manpower to restore the property to its original splendor.”

The Spaniard relaxed slightly, as if he realized that he was dealing with actual potential clients. “In that case... if you will follow me...” He turned to walk back to the small living room, just as Boyle lifted a sheet to admire a solid wood sideboard with metal legs and handles. “Don’t touch that!”, the caretaker barked, as Boyle jumped and immediately dropped the sheet.

As she walked past him, Brianna smirked and wiggled a threatening finger under Boyle's nose as if scolding an undisciplined child, and the sailor rolled his eyes. For about twenty minutes, they followed the caretaker in every room of the house, from the gigantic master bedroom on the second floor facing the ocean, to the attic, through the living rooms, the kitchens and the cellar, where he recommended that they store food, water and candles, and use it as a shelter for all residents during storms. Every room they visited made Brianna's eyes shine a little more. It was the perfect place for Stephen to recover and she couldn't help but imagine the long and quiet nights he would enjoy without having to get up to steer the _Gloriana_. He would finally be able to live at a normal pace, take care of himself, hidden between the sea and the mountains, and heal his injuries, both physical and psychological.

“Do you know how far away is a place called the Pirate's Cave?”, Brianna asked, as they went back to the first floor at the end of their visit. The caretaker’s brow furrowed and Brianna hastened to clarify: “ _La Cueva del Pirata_...?”

The man shook his head slowly. “There is a cave north of the estate, in the mountains, but nothing about a pirate... It does, however, contain a source of pure water that you can use.”

Brianna looked taken aback for a moment, before an explanation started to make its way into her mind. As Stephen gave her a questioning look, she shrugged. “I must have confused it with another place...”

She waited for the caretaker to speak again – something about the fields and crops that were part of the estate – then turned away, her heart pounding. She was almost certain not to have confused with another place. _The pirate's cave is here, but that’s just not how it’s called yet…_ , she thought, casting a loving glance at Stephen. She felt it deep inside her now: this house was their home. Where they would live a few months, a few years maybe, between two crossings of the Atlantic, or even forever. _Until death, or anything else, do us part_...

“ _La compramos_ …”, Brianna said suddenly, interrupting the caretaker’s speech. The man’s eyes popped out of their sockets and he briefly looked at Stephen as if asking him to confirm his wife's decision.

“I haven't even told you about the price yet...”, the man stammered with a nervous laugh. “The estate may be less expensive than what you would pay for it _en La Habana_ , but it is still a large amount of money...”

Stephen narrowed his eyes and stared at Brianna with a strange twinkle in his eyes, as if he didn't quite realize what they were about to do, and yet was strangely delighted to do it. “How much?”, he asked suddenly.

“Three million _reales_. Around eighty thousand pounds sterling.”

The redhead tilted her head to the side, raising her eyebrows and waiting for Stephen's verdict. She had no idea of the extent of the pirate's personal fortune, but she remembered from their days in Philadelphia that a single order of forty tons of contraband tobacco and whiskey for MacNamara had brought in three hundred thousand pounds sterling. Of course, the money was used to pay eighty sailors and certainly his own suppliers, and maybe a bribe or two on the way… But it was not his first time either and over the years, he had probably put aside a nice little jackpot.

“Deal.”

A cry of joy escaped Brianna's mouth and she almost did a little dance before remembering that she’d better not do that in front of a stranger. Meanwhile, the caretaker seemed unable to get over the ease with which he had just sold the estate.

“Well... Perfect... I guess you can sign the deed as soon as you have the money...”

“Mr. Doherty!”, Stephen called loudly, startling the Cuban. The quartermaster's head appeared in the doorway that led to the dining room. “Please prepare eighty thousand pounds.”

“Yes, Captain!”, said the young man, running towards the beach. The caretaker’s eyes followed him until he climbed back into the shore-boat and he pursed his lips. He was probably starting to connect the dots and realize that he was not dealing with a bunch of honest citizens.

“So are we really going to live here?”, O’Brien asked, raising his nose to the ceiling with a dubious expression.

Stephen turned to him. “Is there a problem?”

“I’d say… it lacks a few taverns. And women…”, the first mate replied, as Boyle nodded approvingly.

“If you want a tavern, you just have to open your own...”

“As for women, Jamaica is not that far... We’ll just have to take a trip to the market...”, Stephen added in such a sarcastic tone that Brianna could not help but roll her eyes. The three men chuckled heavily but the caretaker abruptly cleared his throat.

“I'm afraid I can't sell an estate to...”, he began before meeting Bonnet's murderous gaze. The Cuban swallowed and took a step back.

“Please, enlighten me… To what, exactly?”

The pirate's tone was ice cold and soon, it was no longer one but three pairs of threatening Irish eyes staring at the terrified caretaker. Realizing that the situation needed to be de-escalated as soon as possible, Brianna reached into her purse and pulled out two of Geillis's diamonds, shoving them into the man's palm.

“ _Muchas gracias por la visita_ …”, she thanked him with a disarming smile, turning her back to the sailors and looking straight in the Cuban’s eyes. Her smile then disappeared and was replaced by a more serious expression: “… _y por su discreción_.”

The Spaniard glanced quickly at his hand and wondered for a moment if his silence had a price. Apparently so. He closed his fingers over the two white diamonds and nodded solemnly. Stephen hadn't understood everything Brianna had said, but he certainly got the meaning of the word “ _discreción_ ”.

“I'll get the paperwork. It’s already ready, you just have to fill in the blanks...”

“Thank you very much…”, Brianna repeated, watching him walk through the patio gallery to an office at the other end of the first floor. The other three were still fuming and O’Brien clicked his tongue in annoyance. Whatever they did, wherever they went, the whole world always looked down on them. Even as they arrived as rich as Croesus and ready to buy a property legally, they were still considered as thugs.

“All right, let's talk seriously…”, Boyle began, slowly walking up to Brianna to put an arm around her shoulders. “Where is my room?”

“You’re joking, right…?”, Brianna retorted, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh come on, Madam Captain… A small maid's room?

-No.

-A mattress in the attic, then? Or in the cellar!

-No way.

-I get it... You want me to sleep by your side, you naughty g-”

The characteristic sound of a blade pulled out from its scabbard echoed around the room, and Boyle cast a slightly worried glance at Bonnet, whose fingers were tightly gripping the handle of his knife. He hadn't forgotten Boyle's raised hand at the wedding and was obviously planning to keep a close eye on him. The sailor laughed to put on a brave face but let Brianna go and took two steps back.

“Live here and hear them fooling around at every hour of the day and night? Oh Lord…”, O’Brien mocked, but his smirk vanished as quickly as Boyle's arm from Brianna's shoulders when his captain turned his threatening face – and knife – on him. Fortunately, the caretaker chose this moment to reappear and everyone smiled appropriately, as the knife quickly returned in its scabbard. Approaching a table covered with a sheet, like the rest of the furniture, he placed on it an inkwell, a quill and several yellowed sheets of paper where a text had already been copied, leaving spaces for names and other information about the new owner.

“ _Señor_ , would you please read, complete and sign each copy…”, he said, holding out the quill towards Stephen. After a few minutes spent reading the deed that would make him the rightful owner of Cajo Babo, Stephen wrote his name, year of birth and city of origin in the spaces, then added his signature at the bottom of each page. The caretaker nodded approvingly and was about to collect the copies he would bring back to the governor’s office when Stephen motioned for him to stop.

“Wait…” With the quill still in his hand, the pirate turned to Brianna and handed it to her. “I want her to sign too.”

“Women are not allowed to-”, the Cuban began before a cold look from the Irishman made him change his mind. “Of course, _Señor_.”

Stephen turned back to Brianna, who hadn't moved an inch, and stared at her. “I didn’t mind not signing anything on our wedding day… as you wished. But I want your name on this one.”

Brianna felt her heart race at the thought of leaving a written trace of her trip in the eighteenth century – which she had been trying to avoid all along. But she knew from the way he looked at her that she had no way to shirk from this. He had made a great sacrifice accepting her terms at their wedding, but this time he would not give up. No matter what she did, he would always find a way to bind her a little more to him every day, until he regained a semblance of sanity and peace of mind. Trying not to show any sign of nervousness, she walked over to the table, grabbed the quill in her right hand, and set it down on the paper. Slowly, with her most beautiful handwriting so as not to contrast too much with the magnificent old calligraphy on the rest of the document, she began to write her first name: Brianna. Then the second: Ellen. She was starting to draw the Randall's R before remembering that no, in this century her name was Fraser. She had just traced the upper horizontal line of the F when she froze. Her name wasn't Fraser anymore either, and what better way to cover her tracks in the twentieth century than using a name no one there would associate with her family? Not to mention the happiness that this would surely bring to a certain pirate...

Brianna smiled at the idea and changed her F into a B. Brianna Ellen Bonnet. She repeated the process on each copy and rested the quill on the side of the inkwell. It was then that she met Stephen's gaze and as she expected, she saw a glint of triumph but also tenderness. So much so that she forgot for a moment to breathe, to think, and even that they were not alone.

“Hey, can I sign too?”, Boyle whispered as O’Brien kicked him in the back of the knee. The sailor grumbled. “Christ, I was joking, mate...”

An hour later, Doherty was back announcing that several heavy burlap bags full of pounds sterling had been prepared, and asked the caretaker where he wanted them. The Cuban scratched his head, wincing. The man lived 9.5 miles from there in Imías and he came to take care of the house on horseback, but the money had to be brought back to Santiago de Cuba, 125 miles further. This didn’t take the quartermaster aback, however: the young man happily declared that they would have to take inventory of everything that needed to be repaired immediately, as well as an assessment of the materials needed, and they would be able to leave for Santiago on the next day with the money. That way, they would not only complete the purchase of the estate, but they would also buy enough materials to keep on renovating the place. The caretaker did not seem delighted with this unexpected decision, but Doherty's enthusiasm for lists and inventories was such that he had no choice but to follow him into the main house, while Murphy and Stephen were going around the outbuildings to check the frames.

As they had assumed when they had set foot on the beach, the outbuildings were much less maintained than the main house, and Murphy kept grumbling at each new broken door, rickety frame, or pierced roof. They had just climbed onto the porch of a small wooden cabin at the end of the cove, just a few yards from the beach, when a shrill cry rose behind them. Mary had just stepped out of a nearby cabin, her hair covered in a thick spider's web, while Jimmy somehow helped her get rid of it, laughing.

Stephen smiled and Murphy turned his attention to the small cottage. Stunning sea view, one room, and a pretty shaded porch where an old rocking chair swayed slowly in the wind. Ideal for a peaceful retirement. A little carpentry work and the cabin would be perfectly inhabitable, then he would only have to bask his old bones in the sun while rocking gently in his chair. Hoping that his recent heart irregularities would become less frequent. These were certainly due to all the adventures of the past few months, which had put a great strain on his body. With a little rest and patience, it would pass. He was not yet ready to kick the bucket.

“Captain…”, the carpenter began solemnly and Stephen raised an eyebrow. “I would like... With your permission, I would like to be removed from my duties as a carpenter aboard the _Gloriana_. My two apprentices are now trained and fully capable of taking over.”

He saw Bonnet lower his eyes for a moment and a flash of disappointment and resignation in his green irises. Considering his old age, it was to be expected and he would not try to talk him out of it. “You've had enough of us and now you want to leave…”, he joked, but his heart was not really in it.

Murphy blinked. “No, Captain... Actually, and always with your permission, I would like to stay...”, he tapped the porch railing with his fist, “... here. I really like this place.”

Bonnet suddenly seemed so relieved that Murphy felt deeply touched. “Aren't you afraid of getting bored?”, the pirate quipped, peering inside the cabin.

“The renovation of the estate will keep me busy for a while... And then, I suppose you will often see me gazing peacefully at the sea from this porch...”

“Soon with one of my children on each knee, I hope...”

Murphy smiled behind his thick beard and nodded, before lowering his tone. “I would be honored, lad...”

Bonnet was patting the old man friendly on the shoulder as two pairs of shoes entered the small porch of the carpenter's new residence. “Excellent choice, Mr. Murphy!”, Mary trumpeted, poking her head inside the cabin. The old Irishman let out a loud growl and turned away. “This one is almost inhabitable as it is. A few small repairs and it will be good as new. And then you’ll be able to _rest_!”

Mary had deliberately insisted on the last word, so that he would understand that she was referring to the incident of the night before, when she had found him with his hand clutching his heart in the passageway. The old man muttered something, but the blonde ignored him.

“Don't worry, I'll make sure you take regular breaks and are always well hydrated!”, she chirped again with a broad smile.

Murphy's eyes flashed. “I'm still able to remember to take breaks and drink, Miss Mary! I am not senile!”

The girl shrugged and led Jimmy towards the beach. When she felt they were a good distance from the old man, she turned and yelled. “Yet…!”

“You dirty little-!”

But Mary and Jimmy never knew what Murphy was going to say, as they burst out laughing and ran off at full speed.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**So, what did you think of this new place? I had a lot of fun doing research on this part of Cuba, on architecture at that time and on the Cuban flora, I really wanted this place to be perfect for them, hahaha. Now, they still have to renovate the whole thing and we are in the middle of the cyclone season. The bad weather could bring much more than just wind and rain… Brianna’d better get prepared!**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter and until next Monday I wish you a wonderful week!**

**Xérès**


	34. Beir Greim ar mo Lámh

**The Clover and the Tartan**

**And here is another cute chapter… which could end with a teeny tiny cliffhanger! I hope you enjoy it!**

**Thanks all of you who read, commented and kudozed last chapter!**

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

  1. _Beir Greim ar mo Lámh_ (Hold my hand)



Perfect. Such was the adjective Brianna would have used to describe every single morning of the past month. First, she could feel Stephen's hands all over her body as soon as he opened his eyes at sunrise. Then, there was the soothing sound of the waves crashing on the beach, making the pebbles and sand sing as they receded. After that, when she opened her eyelids, the sky was almost always a pure azure blue. And finally Stephen, who never seemed to get tired of her, took possession of her body the minute he felt she was awake. Yes, every morning was perfect… and that’s why the contrast with _this_ particular morning was so striking.

For starters, she hadn't felt Stephen's hands on her body as usual and her first thought upon waking up was to complain about it. She could hear the waves, but someone seemed to have turned the volume up so loud that her head was buzzing. And the sky was way too bright. Brianna painfully lifted her head from her pillow, groaning and saw that Stephen was already up and getting dressed.

“I think I really need to watch Boyle and how often he fills up your glass…”, Stephen quipped as he buttoned his waistcoat.

Brianna frowned. She was having the worst of headaches, though she had barely soaked her lips in a glass of rum the night before, to celebrate O’Brien’s recent promotion. Stephen had officially passed on the torch to him, as his first mate now sailed on his own to the different places where the crew went for fresh supplies and materials. The vote had been quick as no one else had volunteered for the position and O’Brien had always been very appreciated among the crew, and they had spent the rest of the evening drinking in his honor. But even then, Brianna had not felt well. Thus, suffering from such a hangover without even drinking was quite odd.

“I didn’t even dr-”, she muttered before she froze. Her stomach had just tried to flip over like a pancake and she put a hand over her mouth. Fortunately, nothing came out of it, but she felt like the organ had not yet said its last word.

“Are you all right?” Stephen was not smiling anymore and he gave her a worried look. Before she even had time to answer, he walked over to the bed and put his hand on her forehead. No fever, but she was a little pale.

“Yeah, I just... feel bad since yesterday...”, she mumbled, falling back onto the pillow. In Boston, she would have swallowed an aspirin or something and got rid of the headache and general dizziness in less than an hour, but in the eighteenth century she would have to do with the means at hand. In other words... nothing.

“I can stay here if you want me to...”

Brianna sat up. “Don’t. I'll just sleep it off and it will pass. You will be more useful outside repairing roofs…”

The Irishman narrowed his eyes, scanning his wife’s naked body and slightly swollen breasts, and seemed to think for a moment as a smile gradually appeared on his lips. But before she could ask him why he was staring at her like that, he turned away and walked briskly towards the exit. “Alright… I'm sending Mary to take care of you.”

“Huh huh…”, Brianna growled, rolling back under the sheets.

Whistling a catchy old Irish tune, Stephen went downstairs and across the patio to the kitchens, peeked inside, then walked to the small wash house in the backyard. Their young maid was already at work and she quickly turned her smiling face towards her employer.

“Good morning, Sir. Is there anything I can do for you?”, the teenager asked, wiping her wet hands on her apron.

“Could you bring Brianna a light breakfast? She does not feel very well, she wants to stay in bed…”

Mary blinked several times. The pirate’s cheerful tone did not at all match the kind of news he was breaking. Worse, he looked… happy that his young wife was in bed.

“Oh and… you might need a bucket…”, he finished waving his index finger at a pile of buckets and basins stored near the washhouse, before turning away.

“A bucket, Sir?”, Mary repeated, frowning. “Is everything all right?”

Stephen froze and turned around with the most disarming of smiles. “Of course, Mary. Everything… is… perfectly fine.”

The next moment, he had disappeared inside the house and Mary hastened to take her clean linen out of the water to put it in a basket, grabbed a bucket in the process and after placing the basket in the kitchen, climbed the stairs to the master bedroom. She had barely pushed the door open when she saw Brianna suddenly sit up on the bed, put a hand in front of her mouth and try to get up in a hurry. Mary ran over to her and handed her the bucket about half a second before she filled it. _That’s what the bucket was for_...

“Oh… You should have told me, Madam, I would have brought that bucket up to your room last night just in case…”, Mary whispered, pushing Bree's red curls behind her shoulders so as not to soil them.

“I wasn't exactly planning on getting sick...”, Brianna gasped, feeling her stomach calm down slightly now that it had brought up its content.

Mary rolled her eyes and put the bucket down nearby, before filling a glass of water from the half-full pitcher on the dresser. “Well, that was to be expected... wasn’t it?”, she added, before noticing Brianna's inquiring look. “I've been taking care of your laundry for over a month and a half, Madam. We maids notice these things...”

Her brain must have been slowed down by the migraine because Brianna didn't immediately understand what Mary was referring to. Until the light broke upon her... and her brain started to do the math. When did she have her last period? Definitely in River Run… Shortly before Stephen’s escape… around the end of December. “What day is it today?”

“It’s… the end of February, Madam.”

She hadn't cared too much about it until now, to be honest. Since her teenage years her period had never been regular, with breaks lasting up to six months and lately, with all the stress and their crazy adventures, she had already skipped a cycle or two. It was impossible to get pregnant in such anarchy… _Right?_ … The thought of being pregnant suddenly hit her head-on and it must have been written all over her face, for Mary began to stammer.

“You... you had not understood?”

“I’m just… I'm not used to bleeding… regularly… so I wasn’t exactly worried…” Panic made her voice rise a few octaves as the thought kept making its way into her mind.

“And how often are you used to puking, exactly?”, Mary mocked, forgetting for a moment that she was no longer employed in a brothel but in an (almost) respectable house. Brianna opened her eyes wide and Mary pursed her lips immediately. “Excuse me, Madam…”

“No, no, it's fine… I just need to calm down and take a deep breath…” Brianna inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to clear her mind. She just needed to think. Her gaze fell on the bucket and she frowned. “How did you know I needed a bucket?”

“Mr. Bonnet came to see me and asked me to bring it to you… He seemed so happy to tell me you were sick, that I thought for a moment that he had poisoned you and was now savoring his success.”

Once again, the teenager’s straightforwardness hit home and Brianna involuntarily burst into laughter. Stephen had thus realized that something was going on in her body, before she even knew it. It was quite endearing and disturbing at the same time. _Correction: endearing and absolutely creepy._

“I'll bring you something to eat!”, the girl trumpeted, pulling Brianna out of her thoughts. She nodded with a smile, which disappeared as soon as the blonde left the room. _Pregnant_ … She still couldn't realize that this was indeed a possibility. She and Stephen had never really taken any precautions and now that she thought about it, she was incredibly lucky it hadn't happened earlier. At the very beginning of their relationship, when he didn’t care about her enough to consider having a baby. Or worse, after abandoning her in Wilmington. She couldn't imagine what might have happened if her parents had found her heartbroken and bearing a pirate's child, conceived out of wedlock. _Especially Jamie_... Her father would have probably convinced her to go back to the twentieth century, and that would have been the end of the passionate romance between Stephen Bonnet and Brianna Fraser.

Things were a bit different now. They were married and settled, where no evil-minded person would find them. This would take a few variables out of the equation. But not all of them. If she was actually pregnant, she would have to make quick decisions. Immediate, even. Her mother had told her that she had managed to go back to her century when she was less than three months pregnant, but she didn’t know what could happen once the fetus was viable. When Claire had told her this part of the story, Brianna's brain had imagined the worst scenarios, straight out of horror movies: from the simple miscarriage to the baby left in the past and the mother arriving at her destination with her belly torn into pieces, Brianna had considered every solution and these terrible images were now coming back to her. She shook her head to chase them away. No. She didn't want to leave Stephen and go through the same Hell as her mother before her. Claire had managed to return to the past afterwards, but there was no guarantee that Brianna could do the same once her child was born. There was no guarantee that the child could travel with her either.

This decision was therefore simple: she would not leave. She would give birth here, with Stephen by her side, like millions of other women before the advent of institutional delivery. With one big advantage: a mother who was an excellent surgeon and who wouldn't hesitate to travel from North Carolina to make sure everything went fine. Besides, she had promised to write to her as soon as they were settled in a safe place, but had not yet done so for lack of time, too absorbed in her marital happiness. _Well, it’s now or never_...

Only one question remained unanswered: would she be able, in all good conscience, to give birth and raise a child in this dangerous and unhealthy century, when another safer and healthier life awaited them on the other side of the stones? Even though her mother and Frank had both suffered from their situation, Brianna was happy she had the chance to live in an enlightened century, where girls could access education, where people of color were treated as full citizens, where most of the diseases of yesteryear had been eradicated or could be easily cured… This modern life had made her the woman she was today and she was proud of it. Her personality had earned her the respect and trust of an entire crew, and especially of an intriguing pirate captain. Stephen would never have paid any attention to her if she hadn't been insolent, rude, out of control and quick-witted. Could she therefore deprive her child of this opportunity? Was it selfish to stay by Stephen's side at the expense of her baby’s well-being and education?

Jumping up, she walked over to a small pedestal table by the window and opened its only drawer. She had stored all her drawings there, as well as her stock of blank paper and equipment. Taking a sheet of paper, she left the bedroom in her nightgown and walked to the study to write a letter to her mother. O'Brien would leave within a week for Saint-Domingue, in order to buy dried meat, alcohol, building materials and post the sailors’ mail – as those who were married wanted to ask their families in Ireland or in the colonies to come and join them here. She would only have to slip her letter among theirs. By then, she would know whether the nausea was a one-time thing or not. _Maybe it's just a silly indigestion_ …, she thought, but even her inner voice didn't seem convinced. Dipping the quill into the inkwell, she took a deep breath. It had been barely two months since she had left her parents and she was going to have to tell them in one go that she was married, had bought a house and was probably pregnant. _Jamie’s gonna be over the moon_... Brianna winced at her own sarcasm and with a sigh, started writing the most difficult letter of her entire life.

~o~

“Time to take a break, Mr. Murphy!”, Mary bellowed from the ground, cupping a hand around her mouth, as if she needed this to carry the sound further. A furious growl answered her from the roof of the carpenter's small cabin, but she saw the man's boots appear at the top of the ladder and get down to firm ground. It had now been over two months since they had settled in Cajo Babo and the temperatures had climbed a few more degrees. From pleasant, the weather had become hot, then hot and damp. The rainy season wouldn't start until the end of May, so they still had two and a half months to finish their work, but the heat and humidity of the tropics were slowing them. To make matters worse, a strong East wind was blowing since the morning and big clouds were gathering on the ocean. A storm was coming.

Over the weeks, it had almost become a game between them: Mary would show up and urge him to take a break, Murphy grumbled that he was feeling perfectly fine but still stopped and obediently swallowed the lemonade and biscuits that the teenager prepared for him every day. Then he grumbled a little more before going back to his work. And this time was no exception.

“Jesus, Mary, Joseph, could you be a little more discreet?”, Murphy growled, jumping down the last rung.

Mary gave him her best smile. “I was afraid you wouldn't hear me up there...”

“I am not yet deaf...”

He saw her move her lips as if she was speaking, but without making a sound. As he didn't answer, she did it again, punctuating her silent monologue with gestures towards her ears, implying that he couldn’t hear a thing.

“Hilarious…”, Murphy muttered, as Mary laughed out loud this time. However, he reached for the glass of lemonade she had placed on the table on the porch and sat down on a chair to sip it. Although he acted cranky, the close, daily surveillance of the young girl reassured him. He hated to be interrupted in his chores like a child who is called for dinner, but he was aware that Mary was doing it for his own good. And she was the only person who knew of his declining health anyway. As horrifying as it was, he had to admit it was nice to have a guardian angel around.

However, the angel in question seemed preoccupied – no, excited – about something, and his suspicions were confirmed when the young girl sat down across from him looking like someone who’s up to no good. “So… tell me, how’s that roof going?”

Murphy narrowed his eyes. He didn't know where she was going with her questions but he would soon find out. “It's almost over. Doherty's cabin worries me a little more, though. I will definitely help him out once this one is fixed. But we’ll see that after the storm.”

Mary pouted and crossed her arms over her chest thoughtfully. _Would you please spill the beans, lass?_ , Murphy thought, patiently waiting for her to tell him what was on her mind.

“Um... will you have any free time left, if you help Mr. Doherty?”

“Free time for what, exactly?”

The blonde shrugged. “For other side projects...”

“What kind of side projects?”

Mary took a quick look around and seeing that no one was within earshot, she rested her mischievous eyes on the carpenter. “Oh, I don't know… Furniture, for example? Very… very… very… small furniture…”

“What use would anyone have for very, very, very small furniture?”, Murphy quipped, imitating her.

“Maybe for a very, very, very small person?”

Murphy did not seem to understand at first, then he frowned, before his eyes became round like saucers... And immediately looked at the teenager's flat stomach.

“Not me! Are you insane?”, she laughed, before he finally understood who she was talking about. “Madam has been sick every day for the past two weeks and the least we can say is that she’s not getting better... Of course, it is still too early to tell everyon-”  
  
“That’s why you've decided to spread the good news…”, Murphy growled, furious that she dared to do such a thing behind the young couple's back.

The girl gave him an indignant look. “Absolutely not, who do you think you’re talking to, here? You're the only one I'll tell…” She reached for a cookie and ate one with an annoyed pout. “I just thought you would need some time to make something beautiful… for the baby…”

Murphy's expression instantly relaxed and he almost hated himself for scolding her so quickly. He was about to apologize to her when the teenager rose from her chair with a long sigh. “Think about it! Children's furniture is much more relaxing and less dangerous than roofs. At your age...”

“Get out of my sight, you little scumbag...”, he muttered, his desire to apologize already gone. Mary gave him a beaming smile and took the empty lemonade glass before walking off towards the mansion. Murphy watched her go, a smile slowly settling on his wrinkled lips. That girl had many flaws, it went without saying. She had the annoying habit of getting involved in everything, she said everything she thought without thinking, and her stay at the brothel certainly hadn't made her more polite. But she had a good heart.

The carpenter watched her for a moment longer until she disappeared inside the house, before looking for paper and charcoal in his cabin. The roof could wait. He would never have time to finish it before the storm tonight anyway… and he had sketches to make.

~o~

“That's ridiculous! I am perfectly capable of helping!”, Brianna roared as she walked into the living room on Stephen's heels. Around them, several sailors were busy nailing planks to protect the window frames from the wind. It had only gotten stronger throughout the day and the clouds on the horizon were getting dangerously close. All the inhabitants of Cajo Babo were therefore busy blocking the openings and protecting what could be before the elements raged. Well, almost all of them. O’Brien and about twenty guys were still in Saint-Domingue with the _Gloriana_ and had probably decided to stay there until the weather got better. And one resident in particular was facing her husband's outright refusal to see her get too close to a tool or a ladder. Since the recurring morning sickness and cruel lack of menstruation had left no doubt as to her condition, the pirate's paranoia had moved up a notch and if he had been able to lock Brianna up in a sanitized bubble, he would have done so.

“Do not insist, darlin’, that’s a no! And there are no more hammers available anyway.”

Brianna narrowed her eyes, spotting Doherty nearby, his arms filled with planks for the second story windows. “Mr. Doherty?”, Brianna called.

“Yes, Madam?”

“Is it true that there aren't enough hammers for everyone to help?”

Doherty blinked, not really understanding why he was being asked this crazy question. Of course there was a plethora of tools, as some of the men were on a supply mission on another island.

“Well…”, the quartermaster began before noticing Bonnet's threatening gaze and waving arms behind Brianna's back. As the sailor did not seem to understand the meaning of his frantic gestures, the pirate opted for a shorter and clearer message. He shook his head from side to side as he slowly ran his thumb across his neck, as if slitting his own throat. Doherty gulped loudly. “That's right, Ma'am, we’re currently facing a shortage of… er… hammers.”

“You don’t say...”, the young woman grumbled, narrowing her eyes. Doherty let out a nervous laugh: her expression reminded him very well of the captain's threatening glances on his bad days. “What about planks? I can still carry planks…”

Doherty's eyes moved to the pirate but Brianna raised an arm and snapped her fingers in his field of vision. “Don't look at him, Mr. Doherty, look at me.”

Doherty stammered and Stephen decided the game had gone on long enough. “No hammer, no planks. Period.”

“Do you really intend to keep me wrapped in wool for another seven months?”, Brianna exclaimed with a hint of exasperation.

As if by magic, there was not a single hammer blow in the living room and all eyes turned to them in shock. But it only took one glare from Stephen to get the sailors back to work. The pirate was about to give a sharp answer, but Doherty rushed to help the young woman before the situation escalated. And also because they had no time to waste before the storm.

“Ma'am, I haven't had time to check that there are enough lanterns, water, food and blankets for everyone in the cellar. The evening and night will be long... Could you take care of that for me?”

“I don't know, ask my husband…”, the young woman mocked with a shrug.

But the said husband took the remark literally and nodded. “Yes, you can do that. Ask Mary to help you.” And as he turned to leave the house and help protect the outbuildings, he said over his shoulder: “And be careful down the stairs. That's an order.”

Brianna watched him go, before turning her attention back to Doherty. When he saw the young woman’s dark gaze, the quartermaster gave another nervous laugh and immediately disappeared up the stairs that led to the second floor. With an exasperated sigh, she admitted defeat and walked to the kitchen. Mary had just come home, her arms filled with the laundry she had hung up earlier in the afternoon and which had dried in record time thanks to the wind. “Are you looking for something, Madam?”

“I... I wanted to make sure we had everything we need to spend the night in the basement...”

“I’ll go with you!”, the girl interrupted immediately before rushing to a cupboard. “Let me just light a lantern.” Once her candle was lit and the lantern closed, Mary walked down the stairs to the basement door. “I’ll go first, just to be safe.”

“Oh Lord, not you too?”, Brianna moaned, catching the teen's astonished gaze. “Never mind...”

An hour later, the clouds had chased the sunlight and Cajo Babo was plunged into a grayish half-darkness, torn by more and more frequent bolts of lightning. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the whole house began to hiss and crack in the wind. Those who had finished protecting their cabins had taken refuge under the porch of the mansion and watched with a mixture of apprehension and fascination the approaching storm over the ocean.

“The show is much more enjoyable when you see it coming from land than from the sea, isn't it Mr. Lowett?”, Murphy laughed, noticing the blissful face of his colleague, leaning on the porch railing.

“Let's say I’m much less nervous…”, Lowett answered, with a shiver. “Especially that last storm back in October... I really thought we were all going to die. I hope O'Brien found a safe place out there. And that our mail will not get lost…”

“So you asked your wife and children to come from Galway?”, the carpenter asked with a smile.

“God willing… It's been almost a year since I left. The wee lads probably don't even remember my ugly face…”

Murphy stifled a laugh and turned his head as he saw the last men run over to the house under the first falling raindrops.

“Is everything ready?”, Stephen asked, and Murphy nodded silently. “Good. This is our first storm here. We’ll soon find out if we did a good job with those repairs...”

“There will be damage. Some frames have not been reinforced enough. It might not hold out...”, Lowett tempered, entering the living room.

Stephen closed the last patio door, as well as the heavy shutters, behind him. “Let's say I'll consider myself happy if at least half of our work from the past two months resists tonight. As for the rest... we will learn from our mistakes...”

In the cellar, most of the men were already comfortably seated on the floor and conversing happily by the light of the first candles lit by Brianna and Mary. The latter had huddled in a dark corner with Jimmy, who was whispering to her, occasionally making her giggle. When Stephen entered the basement, Brianna gave him an angry look, which he immediately swept aside with a charming smile. Of course, he had got what he wanted again, so there was no need to be frustrated anymore.

“Come here...”

Pulling her gently by the arm, he led her to a corner of the room, dropped to the floor, and motioned for her to sit between his legs. Brianna groaned, but still snuggled up against his chest, unable to resist the warmth that always radiated from his body. With a triumphant smirk, he put an arm around her waist and his hand on her still flat stomach.

“Let me be clear, I'm still mad at you…”, she grumbled, though that simple gesture almost caused her to melt.

“For the next few months, the two people that are dear to me in this world are stuck in the same body... That’s why I intend to take care of it twice as much...”

Brianna blinked, smirked, and laughed stupidly.

“What?”, the Irishman sighed, annoyed by her reaction to his romantic comment.

“Sorry, I was just picturing... Murphy and I stuck in the same body...”

“I wasn't talking about-”, Stephen grumbled before hearing his wife's laughter rise against his chest again. “Alright, that will teach me to get all sentimental...”

“Sorry, it surprised me, I'm not exactly used to it...”, the young woman quipped.

Above them, the house creaked so loudly that silence fell briefly in the cellar, as everyone looked up at the ceiling. When the volume of conversation was back to normal, Stephen leaned closer to her ear.

“I wasn't joking, Brianna. There is no way I’ll let you hurt yourself in any way. No work, no sailing, you don't come near any insects and you stay away from any sharp or pointy object.”

“Am I allowed to breathe?”, she sighed, rolling her eyes. But Stephen answered tit-for-tat, blowing his hot breath into the crook of her neck.

“Only if you breathe the same air as me.”

Brianna raised her nose and let her eyes linger on his serious and vaguely worried expression. The last few weeks on land had done him a lot of good. He was less pale, his fingernails were growing back, he had got his appetite back and was able to sleep soundly again. A few nightmares once in a while still haunted his nights, but they grew apart every day. The last thing Brianna wanted was to see him worry himself sick again. With a shy smile, she slipped her hand into Stephen's, intertwining their fingers. Then she nodded in approval, and the pirate's features instantly relaxed.

The house creaked again, louder this time, as if something was broken upstairs, but neither looked away from the other. Tomorrow the storm would have passed. Tomorrow, or so they thought, their peaceful life would take its course. But it was without counting on the wind... and what it had just accidentally revealed.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Ooooh… Do you smell trouble? What do you think the wind brought us? And what did you think of this chapter? The pregnancy, Bonnet's reaction and Brianna's decisions? Everything could change between them in the next chapter!... Or not? I guess you’ll have to wait until next Monday to find out!**

**I can't wait to read your comments and until then I wish you a wonderful week!**

**Xérès**


	35. An fhírinne ghlan

**The Clover and the Tartan**

  
**As suggested by the title... Today's the day our dear Stephen finally knows the whole truth. I hope you’ll like this chapter, as I know you've been waiting for this moment for a loooong time !!**

**Thanks all of you who read, commented and kudozed last chapter!**

**oOo**

  1. _An fhírinne ghlan_ (The whole truth)



The next morning, a bright sun had risen over Cajo Babo, in a cloudless sky. The thirty or so people gathered in the basement had returned to the surface, not without apprehension, to see the damage caused by the storm. The mansion had hold out quite well and Brianna was relieved: nothing had moved except one of the windows in the master bedroom, which had been broken by a torn branch, allowing the wind to come in and make a mess. Outside, the outbuildings – in different stages of renovation – had suffered more or less damage but nothing beyond repair and everyone had gone back to work with a lighter heart than the day before.

Not wanting Brianna to hurt herself on broken glass, splinters, or nails from the planks that had been torn off by the tree branch, Stephen had taken the initiative of tidying up their room. He had started by sweeping the floor and shaking the rugs to get rid of glass shards, then cleared the planks and the broken window frames. Near the damaged window, the pedestal table in which Brianna had stored her sketches and drawing material had been knocked over and the drawer was open. The wind had scattered paper sheets all over the room. Some had been soaked by the rain and he had to throw them away. Others had been blown away from raindrops and he picked them up with a nostalgic smile. Among the various sketches, he found those he already knew and which she had made during her first days on the _Gloriana_. Others were unknown to him, including portraits of him that she must have hastily drawn in Wilmington, after he had deprived her of all memory of him. One of them was particularly risqué: in the foreground was the _Gloriana_ ’s helm, behind which Stephen stood, his hands gripping two handles on the right and left. Between him and the helm, Brianna had drawn her own figure. She turned her back to the viewer but you could easily recognize her by her curly hair and her profile, visible through a few locks. And judging by the lines representing her thin legs and the curve of her hips behind the wheel, she was completely naked. As for Stephen, his eyes seemed fierce, threatening, as if daring anyone to come and steal his precious property.

Stephen cleared his throat and slipped the drawing into the pile that was gradually forming next to him. If he kept staring at this work of art, he would end up not tidying up at all. _Tidy up first, praise the artist later_ , he joked inwardly before leaning over to get more sheets under the cupboard. The pirate froze and frowned. One of these sheets was odd in every way. First, it was perfectly rectangular, with a cutting precision he just never thought possible due to the composition of paper. It was also unbelievably thin and as white as snow. It was impossible not to notice it among the other yellow, thick, irregular papers. Stephen seized it between his fingers and almost jumped as its softness seemed unreal to him. He had never seen such a fine paper in his life.

Carefully, as if it were a fragile object, he turned it over and what he saw on the other side disturbed him even more. There, a “normal” document – yellow, irregular and damaged – seemed embedded in the thin material. Stephen ran his hand over it, expecting to experience the sensation of regular paper. But this side was as smooth and even as the other. For some reason he couldn't understand, his heart began to beat a little faster in his ribcage and he looked down at the photocopied text. It was a Wilmington Gazette article, dated December 26, 1770, and titled “ _Stephen Bonnet and the Red witch shot dead while attempting to escape_.”

Stephen frowned. Their escape had been anything but a failure, since they were here in Cuba, safe and sound. His eyes scanned the rest of the text and he felt his stomach churn. “… _the couple fled through the streets of Wilmington_ … _perished a few yards from the docks_ , _under the bullets of the North Carolina guard_ … _Miss Fraser's body was handed over to her family_ …” None of this made sense. They weren't dead, they were alive and well… A shudder ran through him as he remembered that he had one day thought he was indeed dead and that his happiness with Brianna was an illusion. A kind of paradise created by his brain in his last moments. No, it was impossible. It was all real: he could think, he could feel things, and moreover he was almost certain he wouldn’t be allowed in Heaven on his dying day. Not someone like him. So there had to be another explanation. Something logical… that only Brianna could explain to him. After all, this document was in her stuff. She had to know about it.

Another solution was making its way into his brain – a solution others had considered before him, especially after their trip to Truro. Although Brianna had earned everyone's respect by taking the treasure maps from a grave containing a fresh corpse and then helping them survive the flu epidemic, Stephen knew it was rumored among the crew that she was not a normal woman. Witch, fairy, and especially _banshee_ – because of her always keeping her hair loose without covering it with a pious cap, and her pale, flawless skin. The captain had never dared to contradict them on this last point: _banshees_ were powerful protective entities, capable of turning water into wine, stones into sheep, but also producing gold and silver for the families to which they were attached. Their singing also announced death, but that hypothesis had been ruled out when her singing had saved Jimmy's soul during the epidemic. So, as long as they believed she was a _banshee_ , they would never hurt her. Stephen had therefore allowed uncertainty to persist, without believing a word of their nonsense.

But this article forced him to reconsider. If she was indeed a powerful magician, it would shed light on many grey areas that had always surrounded the young woman and that Stephen had put up with over time, as he was too obsessed with his desire to tame the indomitable Brianna Ellen Fraser. Her knowledge of many subjects, and not just hidden treasures, her unusual nature, the way she always felt safe everywhere as if she feared nothing and nobody. Her ability to bewitch and seduce the wildest hearts.

He looked down again and his frown deepened. No, that didn't explain the strangely perfect piece of paper, nor the existence of the text. Stephen stood up, ready to leave the room to confront Brianna but his conscience held him back. He couldn't risk anyone to hear them talk about this. He also had to calm down first. Clear things up, figure out some good questions, and prepare for an explanation that he surely wouldn't like. Brianna and her mother had both warned him: the truth had destroyed their family and there was no way he would let such a thing happen to them.

In addition, Brianna was carrying his child. No strong emotion should take hold of her, no evil hand should touch her. Whatever she confessed to him, he had to protect her at all costs. From himself and from others too. Instead of heading for the door, he slowly went back to the pedestal table, put it back on its feet, and pulled up a chair to sit by the window. The sea air coming through it did him good, helped him calm down and that was all he needed right now. So he laid the document in front of him and began to think.

Not seeing him come down, Brianna had gone up to look for Stephen for a well-deserved break. She had spent the entire morning with Flanagan, Mary, and Jimmy making lunch and she was ravenous. Their bedroom rugs were hanging on the balcony railing, overlooking the inner courtyard, which indicated that Stephen still wasn’t finished cleaning. Brianna put a hand on the fabric, it was almost dry.

“Do you need help?”, she asked as she entered their room. Stephen was sitting by the window, staring straight ahead and only the regular movements of his ribcage told her that she was not dealing with a wax replica. “Is everything alright?”

This time the pirate seemed to snap out of his thoughts and his eyes turned towards her. Without a word, but without any aggressiveness, he put his hand on a sheet of paper and slid it a few inches on the table, inviting her to come and see what it was. Brianna frowned and approached, before her gaze fell on the document. She took a quick breath, before the air got stuck in her throat. Her first thought was to wonder what the copy was doing here, but she quickly remembered hiding it among her drawings so no one in River Run would find it. She had probably taken it with the rest of the papers, as she had packed her bag in a hurry. Then, she had put everything in the pedestal table. Pedestal table which had dispersed all its contents during the night...

She turned her head towards Stephen. He looked strangely serene, though his piercing irises carefully followed her every move, every facial expression. Despite her best efforts to find an explanation that would get her out of this mess, her brain was empty. There was no way to justify the existence of a paper that did not yet exist, on which was reported an event that had not even happened. Besides, how was it possible that the document still appeared on the copy when the original had not been edited? _Maybe because it’s a copy?_ Brianna was lost in a bloody time paradox and she felt her breathing quicken.

“Calm down”, Stephen ordered softly.

Brianna jumped and stared at him, her heart pounding. The pirate was eyeing her suspiciously, while strangely keeping himself in control. “How do _you_ manage to stay calm, though...?”

“I’m thinking about our child...”

Brianna frowned and he lifted his head further to look her straight in the eye.

“And I decided that whatever happens, whatever truth you dread revealing to me, my priority is to protect you both.” His wife scowled and he added before she had a chance to say anything: “I'm ready to hear it, Brianna. But for the love of Danu, don’t try to weasel your way out of this again, because I couldn’t take it.”

Brianna pursed her lips, sensing the threat in his voice, and nodded silently. With gentle gestures, she walked over to the windowsill and sat on it, enjoying the soothing tropical wind on her neck. Unconsciously, her right hand came to play with the ring on her left and she took a last long breath.

“Do you remember when I told you that Frank and my mom were separated but I didn't really know what happened?”, Brianna asked with a quick glance in Stephen's direction. He just blinked and she took that for a ‘yes’. “In fact, my mother was off to explore the hinterland while Frank was doing some research in Inverness, about an ancestor who died in battle. She discovered a strange place, a hill with huge stones, organized in a circle, that the Scots called Craigh na Dun.”

Brianna saw Stephen twitch at the description of the place. He had probably made the connection with the stones he had seen in Abandawe, but she did not want to tell that part of the story yet.

“My mother touched one of these stones and lost consciousness. When she woke up… she was in the same place, but not at the same time.”

“How long was she unconscious?”, Stephen asked, frowning.

But Brianna shook her head. In an extremely soft voice, as if she feared that by raising her tone, the news would be harder to take in, she went on: “No… I mean that my mother touched the stone in May 1945. And that she woke up in May 1743.”  
  
Dead silence fell in the room and Brianna saw her husband's eyes widen slightly. But the rest of his body remained motionless, stretched like a bow.

“That's where she met Jamie. And three years later, when she got pregnant shortly before the Battle of Culloden – of which she already knew few Jacobites would come out alive – Jamie begged her to return to her time, far from the rebellion, far from diseases, to give birth and raise me in a safer world. Although I was conceived in 1746, I was born… in November 1948.” She paused again, to keep her emotions in check, but also to monitor Stephen's reactions. For now, he was listening with more attention and docility than ever.

“After Frank's death, my mother found out from old documents that Jamie had not died in Culloden and with my blessing, in 1968, she went back to Craigh na Dun to travel through the stones again and find him after twenty years of absence. After that, I graduated from MIT and-”, she caught Stephen’s frown and corrected herself, realizing he couldn't know the name of the school, “the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. It’s… a college in Boston. I had started studying History but after Frank's death, I failed all my exams and decided to move on to… more scientific subjects...”

She smirked slightly, but Stephen didn't smile back and she refocused her story on the essentials.

“One day, I found in Frank's stuff a very old and very damaged death notice, which said that Jamie Fraser and his wife Claire had died in a fire in January 177 - something. I understood that my father knew that Jamie had survived and that he had kept it from her, so that she wouldn't go back… and wouldn't die in that fire. When I saw that, I bought a plane ticket to Scotland and went to Craigh na Dun…”

“A _what_ ticket?”, Stephen asked abruptly.

“Plane... It's a very fast means of transport. Much faster than a ship... and it flies.” Brianna winced as Stephen's expression grew more and more suspicious. If this kept up, she would soon be tied to a post with a huge barbecue under her feet. “Anyway… I traveled through the stones, took the first ship to Wilmington. As I was traveling alone, I didn't really go unnoticed and was abducted. And… you know the rest.”

Stephen still looked at her with a mixture of suspicion and fascination, as if he was finally realizing what he had in front of him. Then his green eyes moved to the document on the pedestal table. “And that?”

“Roger found it… He is a History teacher at Oxford University… He was my boyfriend until we got into a heated argument a few months before I left for Craigh na Dun. I had left him a letter to tell him where I was and when he finally received it, he went looking for traces of me in History. And he found this. Just as I had traveled back in time to save my parents, he in turn walked through the stones to save me. Even though he suspected that the pirate I was going to give my life for had probably taken his place in my heart.”

“We should have died that day...”

Brianna nodded. “If O’Brien had waited at Wilmington harbor, as planned… If I had tried to escape with you on our own… Yes, we would be dead.”

Stephen's expression softened slightly but he still looked flustered, which was perfectly normal. He looked again at the sheet of paper and shook his head.

“But if we are not dead and the Gazette did not publish this article, how is it still written there...?”

“I don't explain it either... Maybe my mother was wrong and we are not traveling _in_ time but in parallel timelines?” Brianna's voice was a bit higher than usual and she was on the verge of panic again. “I don't know and to be honest I don't think I _want_ to know. This is all too disturbing…”

“And those stones in Abandawe...”, Stephen interrupted dryly. “Is that another passage?”

Brianna nodded. “My mother told me about it before I left River Run. She wanted me to know… that there was another way out in case of an emergency. I went to have a look... I wanted to make sure that this circle would open for me too.”

“So you _were_ going to leave me.” The pirate's voice was harsh and cold, as if he was saying something he had always known. A certitude. Brianna lifted herself off the windowsill and walked around the pedestal table to grab Stephen's face in her hands.

“No... I went there to have a look at the place, nothing more.” Brianna then remembered that he had followed her that day and stopped her from touching one of the stones at the last minute, when she was mesmerized by their power of attraction. “If you saw me reaching out, it's because the stones… were calling me. It's hard to explain, but I had no intention of running away from you that day. I swear. I wanted to be with you.”

Without warning, Stephen put an arm around his wife's waist and pulled her onto his lap. Brianna let go and slipped her own arms around the pirate's neck, before pressing her forehead against his.

“Until death or anything else do us part... Is that what you were thinking?”

Brianna stroked his blonde hair and whispered: “Yes.”

“What could force you to go bac- I mean forward… in the future?”

Again, suspicion and fear made Stephen's voice shake. The very idea that she might one day jump two centuries away from him made him sick.

Brianna pulled back to look at him. “If you died… If I was in serious danger…” She put her hand on her stomach. “Or if our child suffered from a terrible disease that could only be cured in two hundred years… Apart from these three solutions, I can’t think of anything that would make me leave you behind.”

“I'd go with you, then”, Stephen whispered, putting a hand on her stomach. But the painful expression on Brianna at that moment tore his heart.

“Did you hear them?”, she asked in a low voice.

“Hear what?”

“The stones… They buzz, they call the Travelers and attract them…”

Stephen frowned. No, Abandawe Hill had been silent the entire time he was there. Except of course for the cries of birds and the rustle of the wind in the palm trees. He shook his head. “I did not hear anything.”

“You can't follow us, then…” Brianna's voice broke as she said the words and he saw a few tears appear along her eyelashes. “But you won't have to anyway. Apart from the three situations I mentioned, nothing – do you hear me? – nothing will ever convince me to leave you. I’ve been thinking about if for a long time... Since November... And even more since I know that I am carrying our child...”

She pressed her forehead against Stephen's and smiled. “I wondered if I was not selfish, depriving a child of a modern education and of a world where women have almost the same rights as men, where people of color are no longer reduced to slavery… But the very idea that you couldn't know your child was unbearable to me. Just as much as the prospect of not waking up by your side every morning.”

Stephen's arms tightened around her waist and she shivered, like every time he seemed willing to merge their bodies into one. That need for possession he had had from day one was still there and her time travel story had probably rekindled that relentless desire to chain her to him.

“I'm sorry…”, she said, closing her eyes. “All those lies and secrets... it was unbearable for me and I know it was for you too...”

She felt Stephen sigh against her chest. “Don't be… You did what you had to do to survive. If you had told me that fairy tale when we met and without that damn piece of paper, I don't even know if I would have believed you...”

“You would've thrown overboard, tied up and weighted with a big rock so I wouldn't come back to haunt you…”, Brianna joked.

“Absolutely.”

The young woman burst out laughing and wiped away the few tears that had rolled down her cheeks. Stephen looked up and she fell immediately silent, overwhelmed by his expression. There was still some fear in his eyes, but most of all there was love and respect for all the sacrifices she had made to stay with him and that he had just become aware of.

Hundreds of questions were rushing through his mind. Questions about her, about her childhood, about those women who could go to school alongside men and even about those flying machines she had mentioned. About this future world that he would never see. But not right now. They would have plenty of time later for that. Pulling her closer to him, he captured her lips and kissed her passionately, his head full of new, disturbing and strangely exciting information. The one he had always considered an elusive, indomitable woman, had actually fallen under his spell and given up a whole century for him. He had done it... Brianna belonged to him in every way a woman could belong to a man. He had bought her, seduced her, deflowered her, married her, impregnated her... and now torn her from an entire era. He knew he should have felt guilty. Guilty of depriving her of modern medicine, full citizenship status and many other things he couldn't even think of. But all he chose to remember from this jaw-dropping story was that Brianna's love for him was stronger than the future, stronger than Time itself. Few men on Earth could say that.

Driven by his urge of possession, he pushed her back to get up. Regaining control of her lips, he pushed her against the nearest wall and Brianna gave a soft squeal of surprise and desire. With hasty gestures, he untied his breeches and rolled up the young woman's skirts, as she gripped his neck so as not to fall when he lifted her off the floor. Soon it was done, and Brianna wrapped her legs around Stephen's waist, ready to welcome him inside her. The pirate pulled his head back slightly to keep a clear view of his wife's face and penetrated her abruptly. He admired her feverish gaze, her lips parting to utter the most delicious moans, and the top of her breasts trembling with each thrust. Brianna Fraser had crossed two centuries, an ocean and faced countless dangers. She had saved her family, she had saved him knowing full well that she could die. She was amazing. She was unique. She was divine.

And she was his.

~o~

“What do you miss the most here?”

Brianna shifted slightly to make herself more comfortable on her husband's bare chest. Since Stephen knew the whole truth, pillow talk had taken on a ritualistic turn with him asking all the questions that came to his mind. Some evenings he focused on a single theme: the school system, politics, wars. He had growled learning that pirates as he knew them were an endangered species, but would one day become the heroes of many films and novels. The chapter on Apollo 11 and the first steps on the moon had, on the other hand, quite outraged him: “What is in the sky is not intended to be trampled on...”, he had said while Brianna burst into laughter. Other nights, he was only interested in her, her childhood, her memories and her experiences. Tonight was one of these evenings. Mechanically caressing the Irishman's stomach, Brianna narrowed her eyes and thought.

“Um… I’d say music. At home there was always music. Frank had an incredible collection of records… You know, the weird pancakes that make sounds…”, she said, looking up. He nodded and she resumed her original position. “Modern transports too. Everything is so much faster in the twentieth century... Here, a single trip between two cities takes two days when an hour by car would be enough... It is infuriating. Imagine that: by plane, it would have taken maybe a day or two to go from Cape Cod to Saba, with stopovers. A day or two to get back to Philadelphia... One week and that was it.”

Stephen winced and she gave him a surprised look. “In a week, I wouldn't have had time to fall in love with you. It would have been a shame.”

“You’ve got a point...”, she admitted with a small laugh. “I also miss peanut butter, but there are peanuts a little higher up the mountain. As soon as I have collected enough, I will make some. And believe me… your breakfasts will never be the same. Movies, of course, but I've told you too much about that already. And…” She climbed up his chest with a mischievous smile. “Hot showers. It's a bit like having a waterfall with adjustable temperature at home... and you can enjoy it with someone else...”

“ _That_ is something I would have liked to see...”, he chuckled just before Brianna grabbed his lips and straddled him. It had been liberating to tell Stephen the truth. Brianna no longer had to think before she spoke, to choose her words carefully or the details she revealed about her past. She could say anything now, without filter and as a result, she and Stephen had never been so close, so accomplice. And they had never made love so much, either. Stephen had become insatiable now that he was sharing her secrets, and the kiss she had initiated was already getting out of hand. Stephen had straightened up and slid Brianna's legs around his waist to pull her closer to him. Since the first weeks of pregnancy, Brianna's breasts had grown somewhat bigger and firmer, and it literally drove him crazy. In the heat of the moment, he couldn't help but nibble on one of them when a tempting nipple came to his eye level.

“Ouch!”, Brianna protested, giving him a slap on the head.

“Sorry...”, he blurted out hastily, but his greedy expression betrayed that his apology was not sincere at all. Suddenly, a doubtful glint passed in his eyes and he frowned, staring blankly at the wall.

“Another question?”, Brianna sighed, as she was now knowing that look much too well. She was no longer in the mood to talk, to be honest, and had to resist the urge to stick her breast into his mouth to shut him up and make him focus on other activities.

“Do women still suffer when they give birth in the twentieth century?”

The question came as a blow to Brianna and her arousal died down in the blink of an eye. She groaned and rested her forehead on the pirate's shoulder, but he was suddenly extremely serious and she realized that he was probably worried to see her in pain if she could avoid it.

“Well… it's still not a bed of roses, to be honest, but the death rate is much lower. There are many instruments to predict complications, as well as surgical methods that allow the baby to come out through the belly, in the event of a problem…”

“And you expect me to believe this is not painful??”, he said indignantly, almost panicking.

“We are under anesthesia... We are given pain relief products...”

However, her answer didn't seem to reassure the pirate, and his frown deepened. “You won't have any of that here.”

“No, I won’t… Thanks for reminding me…”, she tried to joke, but the idea was really terrifying. “ _But_ I will still have a major advantage over all the other women of this century: an outstanding surgeon who would not miss the event for the world. I've already sent her a letter and I'm waiting for the answer…” She put a hand on Stephen's cheek and smiled. “Everything will be fine. My mom won't let me down.”

The Irishman nodded, before pressing his forehead against Brianna's breasts, and the girl immediately ran her fingers through his blonde hair. “Do you think… they will _both_ come here?”, Stephen asked, wincing.

Brianna chuckled, realizing that he was terrified of Jamie Fraser, the Scottish giant whose only daughter he had perverted, before secretly marrying her thousands of miles away from him and his blessing. “Very likely, yes...”

“Alright… I will die in excruciating pain, then… It was a pleasure to know you, Brianna Fraser.”

The young woman burst into laughter and saw that he was smiling too, while tightening his arms around her waist. “Don't worry… we'll just send him hammering some nails on roofs with Murphy, it'll help him relax…”, she quipped as Stephen suddenly lifted his head from her breasts with a terrified expression.

“You want to give Jamie Fraser a hammer? So you really want me to die?”

Brianna's laugh echoed throughout the first floor and in response, she leaned over the pirate's lips to kiss him passionately. At that very moment, as they fell back onto the mattress, it seemed that nothing could possibly spoil their happiness. But it takes misfortune to really appreciate happiness, and fate was going to remind them of that. In the most heartbreaking way.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Yes, I know, you might be wondering “What the hell are you going to do to them???”. And you're right. There are only two chapters left to this fiction and they will certainly be emotionally challenging. I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this one anyway, and until then I wish you a wonderful week!**

**Xérès**


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